


Beyond the Call

by fifthaegis



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Body Horror, Fantasy, M/M, More characters to be added, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, Violence, bloodborne au, did I mention slow burn because brace yourselves--it is incredibly slow i'm sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2018-08-28 15:09:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 73,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8451217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fifthaegis/pseuds/fifthaegis
Summary: Small voices chattered behind doors, muffled by the scraping sound of metal along the ground, a band of ragged townsfolk making rounds in the neighborhood, their torches lighting the darkened paths before them. Ratty clothes made them look more like beggars off the streets gone feral with how their disheveled hair were sickly split, holding onto axes, swords, and a bloody wooden rake. Their eyes were clouded with bloodlust, pupils blown up and torn like a sick disease.These townsfolk aren't normal—they're looking for something. Hunting.AKA the Bloodborne AU nobody asked for.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So uh. Yeah. Overwatch/Bloodborne crossover/AU.
> 
> Super important note:  
> \- Slightly altered version of Bloodborne; does not strictly follow every aspect of the game  
> \- Chapters may be short because I type on my phone (which gives me the illusion of thinking I typed a lot but really I didn't)  
> \- Not beta'd
> 
> I haven't wrote anything in two years but this crossover has been festering in the back of my mind for quite some time now. And English isn't my first language, so apologies in advance.
> 
> You don't necessarily need knowledge on Bloodborne since I'll be /trying/ my best to explain most of the characteristics, jargon, etc. but it'd be nice to know the bare basics. If you're interested in a non-spoiler, super brief synopsis, you can find that [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RmvYgwbTHOo).
> 
> If you're interested in a more detailed (and filled with spoilers) summary of the game, there is an 11 minute video [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yvB1Vo87uK0).
> 
> Enjoy!

The night air was cool despite the crackling sound of wooden pyres scattered about, burning on the cobblestone streets slicked with rain. Wisps of flames licking against the charred surface of the wooden beams and burned hot red veins decorated it like lattice, hungering for more. Small voices chattered behind doors, muffled by the scraping sound of metal along the ground, a band of ragged townsfolk making rounds in the neighborhood, their torches lighting the darkened paths before them. Ratty clothes made them look more like beggars off the streets gone feral with how their disheveled hair were sickly split, holding onto axes, swords, and a bloody wooden rake. Their eyes were clouded with bloodlust, pupils blown up and torn like a sick disease. These townsfolk aren't normal—they're looking for something. Hunting.

"Father told us that this town was already consumed by the plague." A hushed voice said besides the man overlooking the town from the rooftop. He looked over to see his younger brother following the dim light of the torches that bobbed up and down against the buildings, eventually disappearing around a corner. "I didn't think it would be this bad, Hanzo."

The youngest of the Shimada brothers, Genji, was an exuberant delinquent, always looking for adventure and is more than willing to step up to a challenge. What he didn't expect was going to a town that was rumored to hold a medicine that would cure all kinds of illness only to find it succumbed to a plague that turns people into monstrous beasts. They both came to Yharnam for Paleblood—the holy medicine that would cure all. But with how far they traveled by land and sea, hearing the hazardous waves crashing against the rickety old ship, the brothers' hopes have dwindled, only to be clouded by doubt. Could they find this legendary Paleblood—or were they sent to their demise? The head of the Shimada clan—their father—sent them to retrieve any amount of this so called Paleblood, hoping that it can be manufactured and redistributed on the black market. But not only was it for business, there was also the matter of familial issues of Lady Shimada being deathly ill. Hanzo and Genji were both at her side in the dimly lit room, heads resting against the woman's lap as gentle fingers ran through their inky black hair, murmuring ancient stories of the forgotten past filled with heroism and honor.

The eldest brother clicked his tongue, standing up from the cover of the rooftop. "We best find shelter soon, less we travel without rest." Genji pursed his lips, the bags under his eyes more prominent.

"But where will we stay, brother? Yharnam does not take kindly to outsiders—and on the night of a Hunt; it will be difficult to ask for refuge, even for a spell."

"Then you should head to Oedon Chapel in Cathedral Ward."

Hanzo spun around, drawing his silver curved sword out as Genji immediately had a hand on the hilt of his katana, seeing a figure standing several feet away from them, dressed in all black, long coat draping to the floor and hood obscuring their face with several pouches and bandolier wrapped around their waist and chest. The figure did not seem fazed by their defensive action, merely canting their head in amusement, the brothers seeing a dark mask under the hood that resembled a skull.

"It's not every day we have foreigners walking into Yharnam, especially during the Hunt." The feminine voice said. "But I see that you two are no ordinary travelers. Trick weapons in hand...you two are Hunters."

They were both quiet. The Shimada clan may be known more notoriously for their deals in a variety of drugs and weapons, but they are also known for their skills in hunting beasts and other monstrosities that plague the world they live in. While most prefer the jagged saw-pointed weapons that resembled the maws of the beast they hunt, the Shimada clan weaponry has more finesse and elegance, steel being crafted by blacksmiths throughout the ages, bathed in ancient flames of the dragons that protect the clan and the land in whence they came from. The two brothers did not ease their posture, still eyeing the woman warily. She pointed towards an obelisk-like structure in the distance beyond several building, black rusted fences that looked more like lances surrounded the area. Hanzo could barely make out the tombstones littered about around the stone beacon.

"You can enter Cathedral Ward through the Tomb of Oedon, but you best be swift. If the Huntsmen catch sight of you, they will not hesitate to kill." She looked down at the light bobbing against brick walls again, the sound of a rake screeching against the ground. "They have already been taken by the scourge. Perhaps they do not know that they are infected—or perhaps they believe men are the true beasts of the world. In any case, you two should head over to the Chapel; the incense there wards off beasts and will keep you safe until the Hunt is over. Now, off you go." The woman shooed them away, Hanzo reluctantly and slowly sheathing his sword as Genji relaxed behind him, giving his brother a cautious look. They hurried off the rooftop, Genji hopping down first before Hanzo looked over his shoulder to see the woman staring back, arms crossed over her chest like a mother waiting for their child to do their chores.

"Will they take us foreigners in so easily? We have not experienced much welcome on our arrival here." Hanzo asked. The huntress shrugged, a jagged blade holstered on the left side of her belt rattling with small bone charms attached to the end of the hilt.

"The person who takes care of the chapel is very friendly and has no ill intentions--if anything, I would think that they are very lonely." She said. "But if you happen to see a man clad in all black with a blade made from siderite etched with runes, tell him that Sombra sent you there."

"Sombra." Hanzo echoed. She nodded.

"Hanzo!" Genji hissed from below. "Hurry up! A group just passed by; lets go!" Hanzo quickly jumped down to ground level without another thought on the mysterious woman named Sombra, regrouping with his brother and setting off in the direction of the Tomb of Oedon in the distance. Muted footsteps danced along the wet cobblestone as the brothers ducked for the shadows, avoiding all light from the traveling bands of Huntsmen patrolling the area.

"We can try to take them out." Genji said quietly, the two watching a few Huntsmen stopping by a toppled horse carriage, their clothes filthy with blood, sweat, and grime, a rusted sword in one hand was drenched crimson red. Hanzo let out a considering hum before seeing what the group was surrounding. Something dark lay before them, coarse coat dark and wispy—like black flames that shuddered from the small breeze that picked up the stench of copper and salt.  It growled at the Huntsmen, struggling to get up until one of the deranged townsmen held up his axe high in the air and brought it down with a sickening crunch as wet blood flowed out of the leg wound of the beast. The high pitched whimper made Hanzo and Genji shrink back in horror but seemingly cannot rip their eyes from the spectacle. Is that how Hunters look like when they kill beasts? Like murderers? They continued to hack away at the wolf beast, its cries becoming silent through the bones cracking away, the night air only filled with the sound of crackling flames and metal against flesh.

"We should move." Hanzo finally said, taking his gaze away from the Huntsmen dragging the carcass away to a nearby pyre and throwing it into the flames, causing it to stir and consume the putrid flesh of the beast. Genji nodded and followed his brother, finding themselves using narrow alleyways littered with wooden crates and...chained up coffins? The people of Yharnam sure are morbid. A hand raised up, signaling Genji to stop, the elder brother inching closer to the wall and peeking over the corner to see another band of Huntsmen walking down the streets, along with a mangy dog trotting strangely next to them. Its beige fur was matted and unkempt, strands clumped together in an unhealthy fashion, mud staining the paws that walked along the ground. What troubled Hanzo more was the fact that its eyes were pure white and fangs shown bare with distorted colored gums. He hid back behind the wall and looked around. They would have to avoid the dog somehow less the two want the entire town chasing after them.

"How many?"

"Three men and a dog. Let us get to higher grounds to avoid the mutt picking up our scent; it will help us see the distance between here and the tomb." Hanzo saw a barred window and made a running jump towards it, latching on as he kicked himself off the ground and scrambling up the wall, grabbing onto bricks jutting out and sturdy lanterns attached to the side. Genji followed suit and looked over the dark horizon, blinking as a snowflake fell from the sky. The two looked up, a hand opening palm-up to feel the snow melting on their warm skin.

"Oh." Genji pointed over in the distance. "The tomb is right over there. I think it would be better to go by rooftop; the people of Yharnam do not seem very agile to chase us up here."

"Unless another Hunter sneaks up behind us again." Hanzo said disdainfully. How Sombra managed to catch them off guard bothered the young man immensely; both Hanzo and Genji have been trained to sense others nearby, whether by sound or smell, it is difficult to get the upper hand on them. Yet somehow, the mysterious huntress snuck up behind them—thankfully only providing helpful words rather than a blade in their backs.

"She's was strange, wasn't she?" Genji asked as they hopped over to the next building, avoiding the smoking chimneys and jagged short fences to keep the birds away. "You think she was out hunting for beasts?"

"Most likely."

"What did she say to you before we left? I thought she tried to attack you went you didn't come down."

"Nothing of importance." Hanzo looked down to find the streets clear, the cemetery just a few meters away. He motioned Genji to follow, jumping down carefully and soundlessly, straightening themselves up and patting down their haori clean from the dust and dirt riling up from their journey up on the rooftops. A loud screech caught their attention, the brothers turning at the sound of something crying in the distance, echoing throughout the Central Yharnam. The cries carried out into the night, tapering off before more screeches and roars bellowed from all directions, snarls coming closer and closer. Hanzo immediately took Genji's wrist and dragged him away, the two running towards the tomb, heading up the small staircase to find the cemetery occupied by three black beasts that are feasting on the corpse of a Huntsmen, flesh and sinew being ripped away from blood stained bones by sharp canines. One of the beasts turned around, wolf-like with large appendages moving towards them slowly, its muzzle dripping with hungering saliva and blood, growling. Hanzo stood in front of Genji, taking out his blade as the younger had a hand on his, eyeing the wolf beast. With a roar, it lunged for them, the two jumping away from each other, catching the other two wolf beasts' attention. Using the momentum and speed of their training, Hanzo managed to circle around the beast and slashing at its hind legs. The black fur coat shuddered, almost looking as if it flared up in anger. Ignoring the pain, it raised up a claw, trying to strike down the man as he held his curved blade low to his left side, crouching slightly before letting it loose, cutting the claw away as it came down. With a fluid motion, Hanzo recovered from the counterattack, twisting the blade in his hand with another swing, a large gash appearing on the torso of the beast, toppling down with a pained growl. As it fell and Hanzo's dance with the wolf ended, he snapped the sword down forcefully, a metallic click echoing in the cemetery as a second blade sprung out from its base, flipping over the hilt to mirror the curved sword, a silver string shooting from the point of the blades and attaching to each other. A bow within a blade—Hanzo's trick weapon. He took out a silver arrow from the quiver strapped behind his waist, aiming it at the beast that was trying to flank his brother. It let out a high pitched whistle, embedding itself in the wolf beast's ribs. Genji looked over briefly from his own fight, wielding his katana-saber deftly to deflect the beast's claws in front of him. It raised up both claws into fists, bringing the large hands down on the ground, the younger brother jumping away and sheathing his sword momentarily, a green glint appearing as he drew it out again, the blade seemingly longer and a faint aura around it. He held the grip near his head, blade pointed at the beast before striking as it lunged towards him with its maws open, Hanzo watching his brother slicing through it, two large carcasses falling limp onto the ground, the blood shimmering in the moonlight, zigzagging around in the crevices of the cobblestone floor. Genji sheathed his sword with a twirl, turning towards his brother expectantly with a smile that soon fell as his eyes widened. Hanzo barely had time to turn around and see the other beast rounding about, running along the wall and pushing off towards him.


	2. Chapter 2

"Oh, shit." The young man whispered as the cries of a large beast echoed into the night, sending a shiver down his spine. He hasn't heard that since…

A hand clapped onto his shoulder, shaking him out of the memories clawing their way up from the depths of the man's mind. He looked over to see a taller man, dark skin and wearing a black duster with a cape flowing like dark ichor behind him, a hood obscuring most of his face. 

"Go secure the chapel, McCree. If there's any survivors outside, let them in. I don't care what Ziegler and and Reinhardt say; just get any sane people off the streets."

McCree watched the man walking towards the bent and gnarled fences, a gloved hand settling on the rusted surface and overlooking the plethora of High Victorian Gothic buildings. 

"What about you?" McCree asked. The man turned with a knowing smirk, brown eyes twinkling beneath the brim of his hood.

"Somebody's got to hunt down that beast." His fingers flexed on the grip of the curved sword in hand, its dark surface unpolished and uneven, blade jagged and chipped here and there, as if it was knapped to form the shape of a crescent moon. "We'll rendezvous back at the chapel to report our findings." McCree nodded, his own hand gripping tightly on the stringed cloth wrapped around the wooden shaft of his weapon, hurrying towards the corridor that led to a stone elevator, pulling on the mechanism to call it up from a dark abyssal pit. 

"Oh. And McCree?"

He turned around, seeing the man facing towards the Yharnam scenery, thrusting the blade into place on a strange wooden object on his back, part of the wood folding outward as a large handle, tattered cloth hanging from its end. His mentor's trick weapon was primitive in looks but deadly and effective. A scythe. The harbinger of death. 

"Yes, Reyes?"

"Do be careful out there."

McCree nodded, boarding onto the platform and stepping on a pressure plate, the sound of gears cranking somewhere echoed in the small tunnel as he descending downwards to an another stone corridor with wooden double doors at the end. He walked towards it and gave a hefty push, the intricate oak door groaning, opening up to a large circular foyer of sorts, tapestry and candles lit about, a large iron object dangling from above the center of the room with heavy chains emitting out a faint blanket of smoke—incense. To ward off beasts. McCree crinkled his nose and saw that there were several townsfolk huddled by the walls, families hugging each other and whispering words of prayer for the Old Gods to end the Hunt. His eyes glanced over at the small entranceway across from him, seeing a very large man with a white mane carefully escorting the elderly to a secluded area, kneeling down and asking if they needed anything. He reassured them that any kind of beasts cannot and will not be able to break through into the chapel, smiling kind-heartedly with a squeeze at the frail woman's hand before standing up and turning around. 

"Ah! McCree! I take it Reyes sent you down?"

"Ya got that right, big man. How're things going down here, Reinhardt?"

"See for yourself." The man outstretched an arm and gestured it across the chapel. "Many people are already inside their homes, but we found a few that were either lost from the chaos or ran out of incense."

"Any injuries?" McCree's brows furrowed and turned towards the cry of a child, a girl bawling her eyes out, rubbing away the overflowing tears as a blond woman walked over and knelt down, patting her head affectionately and giving her a hug.

"Nothing that Angela can't handle." He smiled at the blond woman garbed in a long white coat with a matching short shoulder cape draping around her, tied by a small red ribbon. Her sleeves, although loose and frilly, were tied up by black ribbons, revealing white surgical gloves underneath that were clean from the filth of the city and blood of patients. Or beasts. Angela Ziegler, head surgeon and prodigy doctor of the Choir. She was brought into the Healing Church at a young age after traveling to Yharnam when her parents died from strange beasts in a faraway land up north, only wanting to help those in need of healing and support. To her, violence is never the answer. 

Angela tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, standing up and walking towards the two while untying the ribbons on her sleeves. 

"Gabriel sent you?" She asked the young man. He tipped his hat to her, the worn beige scarf around his neck hid his smile that she knew was on his face. "I assume he went looking for the cleric beast that was crying earlier."

"I was afraid you were going to say that." Reinhardt mumbled at the clarification of what kind of monster screeched only a few moments ago. Cleric beasts are rare and incredibly dangerous monstrosities that were born from those of the Healing Church—from those that abused the power of the blood. McCree always found it ironic that the people trying to help the city are the ones that turn into the most frightening of beasts. The clear image of a cleric beast scouring Old Yharnam flickered in his mind, buildings burning around him as the gigantic monster screeched into the night, embers fluttering about like petals in spring. It's body was a mangled mess of tattered fur, grotesque rib cage breathing and bloodied, one arm larger than the other, and gnarled onyx horns that signified how old the beast is. 

Gnashing teeth and growling caught his attention, snapping his head up and looking towards the back entrance of the chapel. 

"Did you hear that?" McCree asked. 

"Hear what?" Angela gave him a wary look, straining her ears to hear what the man was fixated on, only to hear the sound of the townspeople around them. 

"I don't hear anything." Reinhardt said. McCree quickly rushed for the door, surprising the two as they hurried after him. 

"Jesse, what's—"

"Stay here and look after the people." He breathed, stopping at the threshold of the iron-cast door that was decorated intricately with plant motifs and something McCree couldn't identify. "There's beasts lurking 'round outside."

"I shall come with you." Reinhardt promptly said. McCree shook his head. 

"No. Help Angie here with the people. Don't want anymore trouble stirring outside and havin' them beasts crawling around." He heard the growls again, snarling. Without another word, McCree rushed out, the two staring after him. 

_ You're a strange one, kid. You know where beasts are almost as well as us; you can hear them clearly through most noises, as if they're calling you. Don't know if you got good ears or something else. But maybe you can make good use of it. _

McCree trekked through the small library and headed down an escape ladder, sliding down and feeling water splashing against his trousers and boots. Thankfully, it was clean rain water and not sewage. His footsteps echoed along the walls, loud and clear as he made his way back up to the surface. The Tomb of Oedon—a large obelisk of a tombstone towering in the middle of the graveyard was occupied by three wolf beasts and two people backing up from them. McCree was about to spring into action until he saw the two drawing out their blades, splitting up and fighting one of their own beasts that followed suit. He has never seen normal townsfolk fight so—fluently. Elegantly. The one with long black hair tied loosely to a ponytail danced around the wolf as if it was nothing, silver curved blade drawing ribbons of blood. It fell almost as quickly as they initiated the fight, McCree watching in amazement. The figure twirled around, a harsh flick of the wrist made McCree's eyes widen in surprise to see the strange curved blade transform into a silver bladed bow, the person quickly drawing the bowstring and letting a sharp arrow go towards the third wolf beast that was almost forgotten. A clean shot to the ribs, but McCree knew it wouldn't bring down the beast; temporarily incapacitate it but not enough to kill. The younger looking of the two drew out a simple-looking blade, blocking each attack with precision before jumping away, sheathing it momentarily, sharp eyes locked on the beast before him. McCree saw a glint of green shine from the blade, the streak becoming more prominent and curving out into a crescent shape as he cut through the wolf, its body being sliced in two. 

These two aren't ordinary people—they're Hunters. McCree flinched, hearing the faint growl and claws scraping against the brick walls. He looked around to see the third wolf beast running along the buildings, pushing off with claws and teeth out towards the person with the bow. McCree took out his pistol from the holster and immediately shot at it, the sound echoing in the graveyard, all eyes on him now. 

_ You're reckless, never thinking what you're doing; always relying on your instincts. Luckily for you, your guts haven't failed you. Yet. _

McCree took advantage of the scenario, the wolf being shot mid-jump and rolling off the higher platform, taking another shot. The bullet became embedded in the beast's palm, McCree advancing forward with each shot. Two. Three. Four. Each shot staggered the beast back from the two people that watched in bewilderment, the wolf roaring as if it was saying 'enough.' Good. He has its full attention. It ran towards him at lightning speed, McCree gripping on his weapon before swinging it. There was a clicking sound as the folded blade sprung out, a curved sword slashing at the wolf beast's face caused it to fall down and whine, covering its muzzle with its claws. 

_ Remember your training. The most effective way to take care of beasts… _

McCree walked towards it, his face grimacing as it continued to writhe in pain. He can hear it crying. With a swift motion of his hand, he pierced deep into the beast's chest, feeling the heart pulsing erratically in his grip. It cried out again, bright yellow eyes looking at him, he and the beast locking their gaze with one another. McCree closed his eyes and looked away, his grip tightening on the organ before yanking it out, a spray of blood coating him as he threw it to the floor. 

_...is to rip their hearts out of their chest. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos and interest in future chapters! New chapters will being coming out very soon until we hit around chapter 9.
> 
> Again, the story will share characteristics of Bloodborne but with some altercations to some aspects (ie a Cleric Beast in Old Yharnam, multiple Hunts, etc.)
> 
> Also updated/change the tags a bit.
> 
> McCree is using the [Beast Hunter Saif](http://bloodborne.wiki.fextralife.com/Beasthunter+Saif) and a modified version of the [Hunter Pistol](http://bloodborne.wiki.fextralife.com/Hunter+Pistol) while Reyes is using the [Burial Blade](http://bloodborne.wiki.fextralife.com/Burial+Blade).


	3. Chapter 3

Hanzo and Genji stared in shock as the black wolf beast slumped down into a bloody mess, seeing the young man that leaped out of nowhere tearing its heart out. Not even the most skilled of Hunters back in their homeland would do such a thing with the beast's that lurked about deep within the forests. The man stood there, shoulders slumped and breathing heavily, bloodied hands shaking. He suddenly turned towards the two, Hanzo hiding Genji behind him as the young man in nothing but a crimson-stained white dress shirt and black slacks with suspenders stood before them. A tattered beige scarf wrapped around his neck had blood droplets blooming on its surface, the dark leather bandoliers forming a cross against his chest had an array of silver bullets that shone in the moonlit sky. 

"Ya shouldn't be here." The man breathed. "Let's move before more of them start comin' in from Old Yharnam." He ushered them up the steps and towards the large gate. Hanzo and Genji looked at one another, the younger shrugging and following the man to a small corridor filled with shallow water and crates lying about, a ladder leading upward. They climbed up to find themselves in what appeared to be a small office of some sort, the walls lined up with wooden bookshelves filled with a plethora of tomes and papers sticking out, a large globe with golden longitude and latitude markers sat on the wooden table next to a pile of books. Genji spun the sphere, receiving a glare from his older brother. 

"Chapel is just up these stairs." The man said, tipping his tattered brimmed hat up with a smile. He disappeared around the corner only to reappear when the brothers cautiously looked at him. "I ain't gonna bite. 'M part of the Healin' Church, if that makes ya two relax a bit."

"Healing Church? You're a priest?" Genji asked, raising a brow. He received a bubbling laughter from that, the brown haired man doubling over, one hand on his stomach while the other was supporting him on the stone spiral stairwell going up. 

"Hoo boy—haven't heard that one before. But naw, I ain't no priest, and I take it y'all don't know what the Church does around here."

"Well, we aren't exactly from around here." The younger shrugged. Hanzo stayed quiet, crossing his arms and watching the man with dubious eyes. 

"I figured. You two don't look like Yharnamites." He nodded. "But you're definitely Hunters. Watched you two take out those pesky wolf beasts in the Tomb of Oedon—normal people would try to run away or get eaten."

"We're not just ordinary Hunters; we're—"

"The chapel." Hanzo firmly said, glaring at his brother and giving the man a look of annoyance, his grip tightening on his arm. 

"Oh yeah. Follow me." He beckoned the two, Hanzo sighing and looking at Genji, the two conversing in their mother tongue. 

"Don't be so reckless and talk to strangers so freely. Especially in a city like this."

"He saved us, brother. And he's helping us. You worry too much." Genji frowned at Hanzo. 

"We don't know if he can be trusted."

"You're so paranoid. If anything, he's probably no match for us." His younger brother rolled his eyes, catching up with the man who pushed open a pair of oaken doors adorned with silver. A strong and familiar scent hit their nostrils hard as it opened to a large circular area filled with a variety of townsfolk huddled with one another in the small corners of the room.

"Ah! You're back!" A voice boomed in the chapel, Hanzo and Genji jumping in surprise to see a towering man dressed in grayish garbs smacking the man escorting them on the back, nearly knocking him over. "With survivors, it seems!"

The brown haired man coughed, a hand kneading his shoulder. "Not from these parts."

"Ach. You've come to Yharnam at a bad time, my friends. The Hunt is on tonight, and we don't know when it will end."

"I think Reyes knows where the source is. Might've been that cleric beast screaming around town." He scratched the small scruff on his chin. "What don't make sense t'me is why a cleric beast is roamin' around Old Yharnam. Blood-starved beasts I would understand but..."

"What's a cleric beast?" Genji spoke up. Hanzo was curious as well. They spoke as if this was a normal occurrence. Maybe it is.

"Beasts that are as tall as the buildings around here. They're born from those who have become drunk with blood from the Healing Church." The larger man spoke. 

"Blood that has not been purified properly." A blond woman stepped up to the group, petite footsteps clicking again the stone floor. "Excuse our behavior. I am Angela Ziegler, head surgeon and doctor of the Choir. This here is Reinhardt, a Hunter of the Church and Executioner." she gestured towards the big friendly giant who gave them a wave and smile. Angela then gave the man with the feathered cap a pointed look. "And that is McCree, another Hunter."

"Howdy." McCree tipped his hat at them. 

"I'm sure you have plenty of questions, but I'm afraid that with the current situation of the Hunt, we are a bit preoccupied with taking care of the townspeople that have come here for shelter."

"My name is Genji, and this is my brother, Hanzo." The two bowed respectfully.

"Genji, Hanzo." Angela smiled at them. "Apologies for the unfortunate circumstances. I pray that you two were not harmed on your way here?" McCree chuckled, crossing his arms, the bullets on his bandoliers jingling at the movement. 

"Shoulda seen them, Angie."

"McCree, that's no way to talk to—"

"Hold up there, I'm not done." There was still a smile on his face. "These two 'ere? They're Hunters and damn good ones too. Both of them handled one wolf beast each without breakin' a sweat."

"Then I have a job offering for them."

All eyes were now on a man emerging from another set of silver decorated wooden doors, short blond hair strangely kept nice and clean, wearing a simple white dress shirt and satin dark navy vest that shimmered a faint blue in the low candle lights, black knee-high boots had several blades strapped onto the sides, as well as a pistol holstered on the right side of his leg. He dressed like a normal townsfolk, but there was a strange aura around him--he is too clean. The clothes he wore had faint stains but no frayed edges or loose threads, all of it looking pristine. Hanzo caught a glimpse of a worn greatsword on his back, the blade chipped and rough around the edges, a string of cloth wrapped around near the guard of the hilt. 

"Another Hunter, perhaps?" Genji whispered to his brother in their language.

"I believe so." Hanzo said lowly. Angela had both hands on her hips, standing akimbo towards the man walking towards them. 

"Jack, if you're thinking of recruiting these people to your little hunt with whatever is outside—"

"Angela, calm down. Reyes and I located the cleric beast inside Old Yharnam. If we can kill it, the Hunt will end tonight; the leftover beasts can be taken care of by the other Hunters." The man named Jack sighed. "But we'll need help. This cleric beast is a handful right now, especially since it seemed to have allied itself with the lesser beasts that resides in Old Yharnam."

Angela glared at the man, causing Reinhardt and McCree to back up with wide eyes as she walked up and stabbed a finger at Jack's chest accusingly. "I will not tolerate what you and the Church Hunters are doing. Recruiting outsiders for a situation that is none of their business? You're throwing innocent lives in danger!"

"More lives will be in danger if we don't stop this outbreak from getting out of hand, Angela." The man gritted through his teeth, towering over the woman. 

"You said that you have located this 'cleric beast' already, correct?" Hanzo spoke up. He looked over at Genji, the younger brother giving him a knowing nod. "We both came to this city seeking for something important. If we aid you in taking down this beast, will you be willing to help us in return?" Jack let out a short chuckle of amusement. 

"An eye for an eye? I like your style, kid. Alright then, let's move out. Reinhardt, McCree; on me." He commanded, heading for an open doorway leading out of Oedon Chapel towards a circular area with a well in the middle and stairs heading upwards to a large gate, the streets empty and abandoned with littered debris of wood, metal, and blood. Another path lead downwards where they were heading. Jack and Reinhardt went ahead as the three followed behind a few steps. 

"So, where you two from?" McCree asked casually, both hands behind his head as he looked up at the night sky, the stars barely twinkling above through the thin veil of smoke from the pyres burning with the scent of flesh. Hanzo crinkled his nose at the odor, fighting the urge to cover it with his sleeve. 

"That is none of your concern."

"Ain't you a welcoming gentleman." McCree gave him an exasperated look. Genji laughed quietly, kicking a pebble aside that skittered against the grooves on the ground. 

"Do not mind him. My brother is what most people call a 'kill-joy.'"

"Genji..." Hanzo gave him a glare. 

"Never seen trick weapons like those before. Guessin' they're custom made fer ya?" McCree and Genji continued their small talk excitedly, Hanzo rolling his eyes. The town is literally being run over by beasts and they are casually talking like it is just another ordinary day. He quickened his steps to catch up with Jack and Reinhardt, quietly scanning the area around them. The dark facade of the Gothic Victorian building casted twisting shadows on the grey streets, silver and copper chains strained against coffins littered about the area made Hanzo feel uneasy. Is death such a common occurrence that the people of Yharnam leave their dead out in the open so disrespectfully?

"Not a pretty sight, is it?" Jack looked over his shoulder at the young man. "Don't worry. It's not always like this here in Yharnam."

They headed for another small chapel of some sort, passing through the threshold to see a stone tomb in the middle. The blond clicked his tongue. "Guess Reyes didn't want people snooping around. Or have the beasts sneaking up on him."

"Hey big guy, throw me up to the ledge." McCree tapped a finger on Reinhardt's back. 

"The last time you did that, you almost broke your arm, Jesse." Jack said, monotone.

"Listen; we didn't have much time back then and we don't have much time now. The way around—" Hanzo groaned, jumping on top of the sarcophagus and using it as leverage to grab onto the balcony above them, pulling himself up. He spotted a lever mechanism and pulled it down, hearing the cogs work somewhere in the chapel. The sound of stone scraping against each other made their skins crawl, grey slab moving across the tiled floor to reveal an entranceway with stairs descending down to a small dark corridor. McCree gave a low whistle, impressed, only to receive a glare from the man. 

"What's with you guys and dark places?" Genji asked, half amused and half curious. 

"We only have so much candles in Yharnam!" Reinhardt let out a guffaw. "I'm not sure if I can fit through there, Commander. I'll shall look around back." Jack nodded and beckoned the others to follow as Reinhardt's loud footsteps faded into the distance. 

"Commander? I was not aware that this Healing Church of yours had a military." Hanzo said quietly as Jack took an unlit torch off a wall sconce. McCree walked up, digging out a lighter from his pockets and clicked it repeatedly until sparks flew, lighting the dark passageway up. 

"It's...complicated, so to speak." The blond said, holding the torch out in front, water sloshing against their boots as they trekked through the dark and up a small ramp. A figure stood cross armed, looking to the side in front of them down a pathway that opened up to a small room, another path branching out towards a large wooden door. There was a small sheet of paper plastered onto it. What really caught Hanzo's attention was the man standing in front of them. He was tall, the same height as Jack and wore all black, his hood covering most of his face. There were several small leather pouches strapped onto his arms and legs, a strange large wooden branch of some kind holstered on his back while a curved blade was stabbed between the stone besides him. The material glistened darkly in the low light, small grooves on the surface of the weapon.

A man clad in all black with a weapon etched in runes. 

Hanzo blinked. This must be the man Sombra was talking about. He turned towards the group on their approach. 

"I thought you were bringing Wilhelm with you, not this ingrate." The man said coarsely, his voice deep and gruff, matching the intimating aura around him.

"Good to see you too, Boss." McCree huffed out a scoff, crossing his arms in annoyance. 

"Reinhardt is looking for another route. The hallways aren't exactly—y'know." Jack shrugged. "He's a big guy." The man looked aside briefly, contemplation on his face before snapping back up at the others. 

"Let's hurry then. The cleric beast won't be far once we open the door. McCree, I need you and your little friends to hold the back line and make sure no other beasts gets through to Central or the Cathedral Ward."

"Um." Genji looked at his brother. Hanzo glanced at him as well, pursing his lips. This man seemed rather calm and calculated, trusting the two to fight off beasts despite never seeing them in battle. Then again, their weapons are tied securely to their belt--even then, the two brothers have seen their share of incapable Hunters bearing intricate weapons. 

"Don't take me as a fool; I can tell you two can handle yourselves." The man smirked. "Jack and I will head for the cleric beast; Reinhardt should be arriving soon—"

A muffled chortled was heard on the other side of the door, along with the sound of something smashing hard against the ground, seemingly making the whole room reverberate with metal on stone. There was even a distinct sound of something cracking loudly. Like bone being shattered. The laughter continued wholeheartedly outside as the man in black pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling loudly. Jack hid a snicker behind his hand. 

"Well." Jack cleared his throat. "Looks like Reinhardt's here, Reyes."

"Sounds like he's having fun." Hanzo made a small aside with his brother, the younger chuckling. 

"We won't be able to have any fun if they keep this up." Genji said quietly. The two laughed to themselves, Hanzo noticing McCree giving them a quizzical look. 

"What're you two gigglin' about?"

"Nothing." Hanzo cleared his throat, Genji's tittle of laughter dying down. He was expecting the man to question the two but instead saw McCree's brows furrowed and eyeing the door with an anxious expression. They call it Old Yharnam, a city that was once the lively epicenter for all Yharnamites until flames destroyed the city and became infested by beasts that roam the quarantined streets aimlessly, looking for prey. Sometimes unsuspecting travelers would stumble upon the forbidden city and meet their demise. Other times, Hunters would be sent to control the population of beasts, seeing as how they bred like mad and poured out into Central Yharnam. Such as tonight.

"Ready?" Jack asked the three, one hand pressed against the wooden door. The two brothers nodded while McCree gave them a wary glance. Hanzo felt a hand on his sleeve, pulling him back slightly as the blond opened the door with Reyes, moonlight spilling through the cracks. He ripped away from McCree's grasp, offended by his touch. Don't Yharnamites have any manners?

"I—listen. The beasts in Ol' Yharnam aren't—they ain't—" He took a breath, hands clammy and shaking. "Look. I dunno what kind of monsters you and your brother have hunted before from where ya came from, but these beasts are smarter than most. I wouldn't take 'em lightly, if I were you."

"You think we would be so careless in letting our guards down? Beasts are beasts. Demons are demons. Monsters are monsters. It doesn't matter if they are smarter than others or not; they're all the same and are to be treated in the same manner." The Shimada clan had a belief that all monstrosities would be seen as a threat that would be dealt with in a swift and precise manner. Execution is their speciality--and Hanzo isn't going to falter from everything that he has learned because this man before him is telling him that these beasts are nothing like he has every fought before. Large doors creaked open, the aged and tattered warning sign glued onto it fluttering away in the night breeze, Hanzo catching a glimpse of what it said. 

" _ Keep out. No Hunters are permitted beyond this point. Turn back. _ " Strange. 

The doorway opened up to what looked like another section of the city, the expansive gray scenery extending beyond the horizon with dark buildings dotting the streets, a never-ending plume of smoke rising here and there. Hanzo and Genji noticed the snuffed out pyres with the burnt corpses of smaller beasts coaxed in a hardened black shell with the putrid smell of burnt flesh hanging in the air. A pile of beasts carcasses and blood littered the open area before them with the large man in slate garbs and a flaming hammer laughed uproariously at the scene. 

"We will have plenty of hunting if the beasts continue to pour out like this!" Reinhardt laughed. 

"Reinhardt, I need you to stay on the defensive line to prevent the scourge beasts from entering the city." Reyes said. "You three are coming with me and Morrison."

"Wait. What?" McCree was taken aback. "I thought we were going to help Reinhardt here with the defenses." Reyes rolled his eyes. 

"I don't know if you noticed, McCree, but Reinhardt can handle himself with these beasts." He then looked up at the towering man again. "I take it you still have enough antidote on you?"

" _Ja_." Reinhardt then looked over at the Shimada brothers. "What about the two boys there?" Reyes walked towards the brothers, gloved fingers flipping a pouch secured to his belt open and handing Hanzo a small tied up handkerchief. Curious, the young man carefully untied the white cloth to find smaller white circular tablets inside. Medicine—most likely the antidote they were just talking about. 

"The antidote will only temporarily stop the poison." Hanzo blinked. Temporarily? Poison?

"These beasts induce poison?" Genji asked incredulously. A nod.

"They've adapted to what tainted their water system back when this was the main city." He canted his head towards the burnt beast. Its mottled fur on elongated limbs was flaking off to ash on the floor, jaws agape with pointed fangs, white eyes vacant and staring into oblivion. "See that little one over there? Look at its claws; notice how they're a darker shade than normal beasts?" Hanzo and Genji examined the sharpened nails of the corpse. Sure enough, compared to the bone white claws they have almost come in contact with before from other beasts, they were nearly jet black, save for a translucent hint of fleshy undertones near the base. 

A loud screech caught their attention, the cries of the cleric beast emitting not too far away from where they stood. Stone clattered against the ground and wooden splinters crashing in the distance; the howls and chittering sounds of smaller beasts echoing nearby. Morrison hurried across the bridge, taking the worn out greatsword from his back as he disappeared through a veil of smoke, Genji running after him with a shimmer of excitement in his eyes. Hanzo followed his brother, wanting to chide him that he is being too cocky again before catching a glimpse of Reyes settling a hand on McCree's shoulder, his lips moving, uttering quiet words that the man couldn't hear. The black hat bobbed down in a nod.

* * *

 

They said that Cleric Beasts were as tall as the buildings that decorated the streets of Yharnam—Hanzo did not think they were being quite literal about it. When McCree flinched, quickly turning around to see a large shadow jump from behind a row of dilapidated houses, Hanzo was not expecting to see an enormous beast covered in mangled grey fur that looked more like tendrils, moss-like texture growing around rusty hammered nails protruding from its legs, the skin around its chest wrapping tightly to its ribcage, bones large and apparent. One of its arms was larger than the other, grasping onto a nearby building as it hissed at the group, a light trail of fog leaking from its mouth, between the array of sharp teeth. What really stood out compared to any other beasts Hanzo and Genji have encountered before is the gnarled horns that grew out of its head, much like that of a deer. The horns were pitch black, grooves curling around with a surface that resembled tree bark, the ends of them being sharp to a point.

Reyes clicked his blade against the wooden mechanism on his back, letting it spring out into a long handle for his transformed scythe. He held it close, eyes locked on the beast as it continued to growl, staring at them—as if it was judging them. Its red eyes glanced over at McCree, the young man taking several steps back, his grip tightening on his weapon while his other hand danced lightly on the handle of his revolver. Hanzo saw its lips twitch upwards, as if it was...smiling? A guttural growl came from the cleric beast, the monstrosity leaning down from the building in McCree's direction. Reyes was immediately standing between them, glowering at the beast. It screeched, launching itself from the building and towards the group, Reyes and Morrison rolling out of the way as McCree jumped backwards, the ground crackling with debris flying from the impact. They didn't have much room to fight with the cleric beast, a plethora of houses encasing them with wooden ramps as makeshift patrol routes from previous Hunters lingered about; too many obstacles. Hanzo looked around, seeing a high vantage point on top of a broken bell tower where he can fire his arrows at relative safety. He scrambled over to the shadows of the building as the cleric beast cried out again, swiping its large claws at the two elder Hunters while its other hand slammed against the ground where McCree and Genji were. McCree rolled forward, slashing at the hand with his weapon, the beast recoiling slightly. Genji drew out his blade from his sheathe momentarily before reconsidering, letting it fall back in place with a click as he drew out three throwing knives from his sleeve. He threw one at the beast's face, the small silver knife barely nicking the dark skin, and another towards its eye. A hand batted the tiny knife away, growling and directing its attention to the younger Shimada, Genji acting as decoy while Reyes and Morrison circled around from behind to attack its legs. The cleric beast screeched loudly, collapsing onto its knees, red eyes glaring behind itself to see Reyes's trick weapon partially embedded in its ankle. The man giving the beast a quick smirk, tugging the scythe towards him as blood sprayed out from the deep laceration. Morrison ducked away from the flailing arm of the beast, keeping an eye on it, holding up his greatsword horizontally in front of him. In a deft motion with his other hand gliding across the blade he held up, Hanzo saw the battered sword turn into a more refined greatsword with a brushed bronze handle and glowing sea-green blade that looked so ethereal, moonlit particles fluttering away from the blade as Jack swung at the hand trying to bat him away. The glowing blade was drenched in red now, the intricate designs on the surface becoming more pronounced with the blood flowing down.

It's down one leg and a hand, but Hanzo couldn't help but notice that the beast kept focusing on McCree, turning towards the young Hunter and attempting to snatch him in its remaining claw. He sidestepped the first swipe, drawing his revolver and shooting at the hand coming at him again. Surprisingly, it made the beast flinch back in pain before screeching loudly, getting back up on both legs. The beast moved more haphazardly, erratic movements becoming unpredictable and dangerous, both Reyes and Jack wide-eyed with astonishment. The two dodged the gigantic hands slamming down repeatedly around them, arms smashing into nearby buildings and making concrete and wooden debris fall about. Hanzo clicked his sword into its bow form, drawing an arrow and aiming for its eye, his arms straining as he waited for the perfect opportunity to strike. It breathed, head snapping towards him, the arrow flying out of his hand and straight into its right eye. With a piercing shriek, the cleric beast doubled in pain, immediately recovering and rushing towards the bell tower where Hanzo was, the larger arm slamming onto the sides of the building. Hanzo felt the foundation beneath him starting to crumble, losing his footing, hearing his brother cry out his name. The stone floor dipped downward, causing him to slide down from gravity, kicking away when it became vertical and rolling to the ground. He groaned, getting up to see the beast reaching towards him, large claws shadowing above before Hanzo saw a blur of a tattered scarf come into view. McCree swung at the bloodied hand, his weapon unfolding itself with a loud click, onyx and silver curved blade cutting right through its elongated fingers. The cleric beast backed away in pain, holding its bleeding hand to its chest and howled. From above, Hanzo could barely make out the figure from above, a green glint piercing down into the beast's skull. It shook its head about, thrashing to get Genji off, but the young man persisted, twisting the blade in his grip. He withdrew the katana-saber from the beast's head when it toppled to the ground with a deafening thud, dust kicking up. Reyes and Morrison stepped in front of it, hearing the ragged sounds of it growling. McCree helped Hanzo up, the latter patting away the dust and grime from his clothes, accompanied by a small 'thank you' before seeing the beast swipe at the two Hunters in front of it. Jack was knocked back by the knuckle of the beast as Reyes was in its grasp, struggling to pry out of its hold before being slammed down to the ground. There was a deafening silence before McCree screamed out for Reyes, rushing over with his weapon in hand and lunging towards the beast. Anguished cries of the young man filled the air as he pummeled the beast's face in with his blade, wild-eyed, until it became a bloody mess of unrecognizable features. Hanzo and Genji watched in horror as McCree continued to bash in its skull with a sickening crack, bits of brain matter and flesh spewing out. Jack had to intervene, grasping onto the boy's wrists from striking down at the corpse, pulling him away. McCree eventually fell into Jack's arms, body shaking and hiding his face in the man's shirt, bloodied hands gripping on for dear life. The blond looked over at where Reyes's body lied motionless underneath the hand of the cleric beast, sucking in a breath, brows furrowed. He muttered something under his breath, still looking at the body. And then, Reyes twitched, heaving out whooping coughs and gasping for air. McCree raised his head from Jack's chest, tears staining his cheeks before scrambling away, running towards Reyes. The gesture reminded Hanzo of when he and his brother would run up to their father after so many weeks of not seeing him around the estate, hugging around his waist as the man smiled softly at them, patting their heads. McCree nearly knocked Reyes back down, the man's hood falling back to reveal short dark brown curly locks, a scarred face that softened, gloved hand reassuringly rubbing McCree's back. 

"It's okay,  _ mijo _ . I'm fine; everything's alright now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ehhhhhh screw it. I'm just gonna upload what I have so far. Enjoy, kiddos.
> 
> Kudos are greatly appreciated and thank you so much for reading! :>
> 
> (Also if somebody can tell me how to fix the end notes from chapter one to stop appear after each end note for each chapter, that'd be cool because I have no diddly darn clue how to fix that)
> 
> Equipment time!  
> Jack Morrison is using the [Holy Moonlight Sword](http://bloodborne.wiki.fextralife.com/Holy+Moonlight+Sword)  
> Reinhardt Wilhelm is using the [Boom Hammer](http://bloodborne.wiki.fextralife.com/Boom+Hammer)
> 
> Also, in case people were curious on how old they are right _now_ :  
> Hanzo is 16  
> Genji is 13  
> McCree and Mercy are 15  
> Reyes and Morrison are around their early 30s or so  
> Reinhardt is around 40 or so


	4. Chapter 4

"Paleblood?" Jack asked, bewildered and glancing over at Angela who was dressing up Reyes in a string of bandages around his head and chest area. She pursed her lips, resuming her work, careful not to jostle McCree awake where he rested next to Reyes's arm. 

Hanzo nodded. "We were told that Yharnam specializes in blood ministration and that there is a specific vial called Paleblood, which can heal any kind of ailment, no matter how lethal they are."

"Hate to burst your bubble, kid, but there's nothing called Paleblood here in Yharnam." Reyes stated bluntly. Hanzo and Genji froze. "Paleblood is just something that people fabricated in order to have foreigners pour into the city and buy blood from us. Even then, if used improperly, blood transfusion can result people turning into beasts."

"Then—we came all this way for nothing? Our mother is dying and we're just going to—?" Genji nearly shouted. Hanzo had to hold him back when his younger brother stepped forward, hands curling into fists. But he too felt anger surging through him; the two brothers leaving the safety of their home in a faraway land to look for a cure to their mother's illness--that never existed. 

"I'm sorry, Genji." Jack gave them a forlorn smile.

"Can't Angela just give them regular blood vials then?" Reyes, Jack, and Angela turned towards McCree who was still lying against the white sheets, dark muddled brown eyes peeking behind brown strands of hair. 

"Didn't you just hear me, _mijo_? These kids don't know how blood transfusion works; if they mess up, their madre will be dead. Plus," Reyes looked at the two with his usual scowl. "Knowing their family, they're most likely going to try to capitalize from the blood."

It was Hanzo's turn to step forward, glaring at the wounded man. 

"You know nothing of our family." He seethed. Reyes scoffed. 

"Really? The Shimada clan isn't a big secret to the world; even we Yharnamites know who you two are. Doesn't help that you wear your symbol so proudly on your chest either." He gestured at the sigil of the Shimada clan embroidered on the lapel of the brothers' clothes. 

"And yet you sell your precious blood to other outsiders so willingly?" Hanzo barked. McCree stiffened next to Reyes, eyes becoming sharp with warning. 

"Hanzo, we understand your distress, but you have to keep in mind that using blood from Yharnam is not as simple as it seems." Angela said quietly, her voice defusing the situation temporarily. The young doctor sighed, tucking a lock of blond hair behind her ear. "The Healing Church is in charge of distributing blood in the city and to outsiders; they keep records of who acquired blood from them." Hanzo crossed his arms, a grimace on his face. 

"It sounds like this church of yours is more of a government."

"In a sense, it is." Jack said. "The Healing Church rules over Yharnam because of the discovery of blood ministration. Yharnam thrives from blood. Hell, people prefer it over beer, saying that it's more intoxicating."

"And you work for them." Genji stated.

"Yes, but we have no power in the distribution of the blood vials." Jack sighed. "Look, I know you two are desperate to help your mother, but you have to think of the consequences of what you're doing; If you happen to get blood but botch the administration of it, your mother will most likely turn into a beast and spread the scourge in your homeland."

"...What if we purified the blood?" Angela came to an epiphany, blue eyes widening at the revelation. "Purified blood has little to no concentration of the scourge within it. If they can get their hands on it, they can cure their mother's illness."

"Out of the question." Jack gave her a look. "Angela, you're the last person I'd expect to suggest such a thing."

"Jack, they helped us take down the cleric beast that caused this Hunt and you promised them aid, did you not?" She turned towards him. The commander let out a sharp breath. 

"An eye for an eye." He murmured. "Even then, how long would the purification take?"

"A few months at least. Perhaps two or three." Angela shrank back. "I have been working on one batch but progress is slow. If I rush it, it may contain essence of the scourge." She looked at the brothers. Hanzo pursed his lips into a tight line, looking down at the floor. He doesn't know how much time they would have to get back to their homeland or cure their mother in time—illnesses are not to be trifled with. There have been times where house servants would be suffering from a simple cold before dying the next day. He shuddered at the thought in the back of his mind where they might return home, only to find out that their mother passed away during their trip. 

"How hard is it to learn about blood transfusions?" Genji asked. Reyes gave the young man a glowering look. He challenged him back with his own glare. "If blood administration is so common here in Yharnam, that means normal townspeople know how to do these procedures, correct?"

McCree sat up. "Most people of Yharnam are used to blood 'ministrations—it's something we adapted to."

"What are you planning?" Reyes asked lowly, voice dark and threatening. 

"Teach me how to properly do blood transfusions and give me a spare blood vial to take back to my homeland." Hanzo turned sharply towards him. 

"Genji. No. You are not going back by yourself." His brother whipped his head to glare at him. 

"And what about _okaasan_? We're just going to wait? Who knows how long it will take for the purification process? Angela is working on the very first one—we won't have enough time to see if it really works!" Genji was shouting at this point. "I'm not going to just sit around and wait while our mother is dying a two week's journey at home!"

"Enough!" Hanzo snapped, dark brown eyes glaring daggers at his own brother. "I will go back to the estate with the blood vial. You stay here until Doctor Ziegler finishes her project."

"Hanzo—"

"Besides, you wanted to see the world for yourself, right? It's better I go back than you being trapped in the estate again; I know how much you hate it there." Hanzo gave him a small smile that fell at the voice echoing in the back of his head. It wasn't his voice—no. It was the elders'. He remembers walking in the hallway late at night, unable to sleep and stumbling onto a private meeting with all the clan elders, their voices low and hushed as the hearth fire crackled in the center of the dark room. Hanzo padded quietly behind the ajar wooden sliding doors, peeking into the room. His eyes widened when the words reached his ears. 

" _ Genji must be seen to for his foolishness in thinking that his father can protect him from his duties. Being the youngest does not forfeit him from honoring the clan. He should not be coddled like a babe once more; the boy is an adult as it is." _

_ "He has become too soft; his actions will be the downfall of the clan at this rate. The Dragon of the North-Wind has chosen poorly. I pray that it will not make the same mistake again." _

_ "We will make sure of that. _ "

Hanzo backed away from the door, quickly going down the dark hallway and into his room, sliding down when he closed the door behind him. Ever since then, Hanzo has been keeping a close eye and ear on the clan elders. Sending him back to the clan now, alone, is a death sentence, and Hanzo knew that. So, he will go back to their homeland, alone. Angela taught him the ways of blood ministration for a few days, even practicing it on patients after the young doctor believed he was ready to test it out for himself. With a smile, she gave him an approving nod. 

"Are you sure about this, brother?" Genji asked over the low candle light on the wooden table. They have been borrowing the small study space connected to Oedon Chapel, Hanzo absorbed in the miscellaneous books on the shelves while Genji was staring at the ceiling, tossing up a throwing knife and catching it with ease. 

"Yes." Hanzo merely said, flipping a page carefully about an ancient civilization that once lived in Yharnam. He is set to leave tomorrow morning, all his sparse belongings packed up in a knapsack Reinhardt gave him as a thank-you gift for helping with the cleric beast. In actuality, Hanzo is still perturbed by the event; he did not assist as much as he wanted to, only blinding the beast momentarily. But that wasn't the only thing on his mind; the fact that cleric beasts were once men of the Healing Church disturbed him greatly. Did they know who the beast was? Did people within the order succumb to the temptation of blood so easily? Or was it something else? Why would they use the cursed blood if there are heavy consequences? He glanced over at the red blood vial peeking out of his bag, the smooth glass surface shining under the candle light.

"This will only ease her illness for a time being." Angela said, settling the vial in his palm and closing his hand around it. "One blood vial should be suffice in her ailment, but do keep an eye out for your mother. I doubt your people have experienced this kind of blood before, but despite its advance healing properties, its origins are that of beasts. Remember that."

A knock on the door caught the brothers' attention; Hanzo setting the book down and tucking his long hair behind his ear while Genji sat up straight in the chair, pocketing his knife away. The door opened, McCree at the threshold with a smile. 

"Howdy." He tipped his hat at the two. "You guys want to grab some grub? Winston told me that y'all haven't left the room in some time." McCree stayed at the doorway. The last time he barged in, he spooked both Hanzo and Genji that an arrow was embedded in the doorframe, along with three throwing knives--deep indentation and splinters still there. Before his brother could decline the offer, Genji spoke up. 

"Sure!"

"Genji..." Hanzo gave him a stern look. 

"You're leaving tomorrow morning, brother. We might as well spend some time in the city before you leave." The younger said with a smile, hopping out of the wooden chair and heading for the door. McCree stepped aside to give Genji room to pass on through, a meek smile on his face as he turned towards Hanzo. The archer sighed, brushing a hand through his bang that wasn't tucked behind his ears and got up from his seat. He holstered the twisted sword onto his back, McCree raising a brow. 

"Aw, y'dun need to worry about beasts in broad daylight; they don't like the sunlight. Gives away their cover and hurts their eyes."

Hanzo gave out a tiny scoff, brief contemplation written across his face before setting the sword down next to his knapsack leaning against one of the bookcases, the silver surface glistening in the candlelight. They walked out into the chapel to see a man garbed in white sitting in an alcove, rocking back and forth on a wooden chair while cooing at whatever was hidden in the bundle of red cloth in his arms. McCree briefly introduced him as Winston, a scholar that has affiliations with the Healing Church but no direct connections with them. Nowadays, he acts as a guardian of the chapel, keeping an eye on people who come on through and sending those in the right direction whenever they needed help in navigating the city. The man chuckled as Hanzo heard the noise akin to a babe's giggling fit under the crimson fabric, barely catching a glimpse of a black hand reaching out towards Winston. He shushed the child in his arms, carefully but deftly hiding the hand back into the bundle and looking up at the three. 

"Ah! I assume you're heading out?" Winston pushed up his glasses. 

"Yessir. Just grabbing some breakfast. Maybe walk around Cathedral Ward." McCree tipped his hat at the scholar. Hanzo and Genji bowed. 

"Thank you for allowing us to seek refuge here." The eldest brother said. Winston laughed airily and waved him off. 

"It's no worries at all! Oedon Chapel is a safe haven for those in need." He said. "I hear you are leaving tomorrow, Hanzo. Do stay safe on your journey back, and remember: you're more than welcome to come back any time. Oedon Chapel will open its doors to you."

"Thank you." Hanzo bowed again. They all turned towards the double wooden doors to the right wall opening up with a groan, Morrison and Reyes walking out. Jack was wearing his usual get-up: white dress shirt with cuffs rolled up to his elbows, a black glove on his right hand while bandages wrapped around his left wrist, black slacks clean of grime and dirt, and deep brown leather boots strapped with empty throwing knife pouches. Reyes, on the other hand, looked different. He wasn't wearing the black coat and cape that made people call him the Grim Reaper; instead, he wore a form-fitting deep red dress shirt with a black vest and matching slacks, adjusting his cuffs and straightening out his collar before glancing over at the group of teenagers. 

"I thought I told you to keep an eye out on the streets today, McCree." Reyes crossed his arms, staring unamused at the teen bringing down the lip of his hat to his eyes, hiding them. 

"I mean, there's not much going on. Plus, the Shimada brothers could use some fresh air. Thought I'd show them 'round town."

"Slacking off, as usual." Reyes rolled his eyes. Jack chuckled besides him. 

"C'mon now, Gabe. They can join us for brunch." The blond said. "There's a pub not too far away from here that serves pretty decent food."

And so they went, walking towards Central Yharnam where the brothers once saw patrolling Huntsmen wandering about with hungry gaze and rusty weapons in hand. The city looked significantly different in broad daylight; buildings more pronounced in design and architecture, the carved out stone showing both grim and angelic features of figures that Hanzo couldn't tell if they were actual idols or just for show. All the burning pyres were gone; any sign of them missing without a trace. Not even singed scorch marks on the ground or the scent of burning flesh lingered in the air. Then again, it has been—a week? Hanzo grimaced. The more time they spent here, the more he grew anxious of his mother's well being. 

"Hey, Hanzo."

McCree's voice brought him back to reality, snapping his head up from staring blankly at the cobblestone floor, noticing that he faltered behind the group. They didn't seem to notice—or at least tried not to show it. Genji seemed to be exuberantly talking to the blond, but Hanzo can see his brother's eyes glancing over his shoulder briefly. The shaggy brown haired teen gave him a small smile, waiting for him to catch up. "You doing okay there, partner? Ya spaced out a bit." Hanzo nodded with an almost inaudible hum.

"I was simply lost in thought; a minor inconvenience. My apologies." He said factually, keeping his pace with the group now. McCree chuckled besides him, tugging on his tattered scarf around his neck. It looked so worn out—why didn't he just get a new one? If he works for the Healing Church, they must pay him in some kind of currency, no? After all, they said themselves that the Church was no religious establishment that the brothers thought of. Reinhardt explained to them over a table of tinkering metalwork that it is an elaborate system of different 'branches' within the Church. There is the Choir which housed the scholars in studies of blood ministration; there is the School of Talon that is dedicated to learning, as the name implies. And then, there is the Hunter's Watch, where Gabriel and Jack lead small squadrons of Hunters in subduing the onslaught of beasts that plague the streets.

It all seemed very strange to Hanzo that the ruling force of the city would call themselves a 'church' when its primary agenda is that of using lethal force to ensure safety.

"Ya don't have to be so formal, Hanzo." McCree laughed. "Maybe some good food will help clear yer mind, yeah?" 

"Perhaps." He left the conversation at that. The young man liked to pester him and his brother, visiting their little alcove in the chapel late in the evening after his patrols and insistently making banters with Genji after one-sided attempts with Hanzo. He would ask about their homeland, their trick weapons, what combative strategies they learned, and so on. Eventually, the questions would get personal, earning a glare from Hanzo. He snapped once when McCree asked about their mother, the brown haired teen shrinking back, mumbling a 'sorry' like a kicked puppy. 

Hanzo expects him to play the questionnaire game with them at the pub over some food and drinks, steeling himself for the onslaught of inquiries. 

" _ He doesn't talk to others that often, especially those not in his own age group. The only real exception would be Reyes. _ " A woman said with sleek black hair, her skin being a smooth, deep coffee color, wearing a rich blue attire that gave her form an intimidating sense of authority. She introduced herself as Ana, one of the squadron leaders of the Hunter's Watch with Gabriel and Jack. Hanzo and Genji remember meeting her while walking outside the chapel, the younger feeling somebody bump into him from behind to find a young woman staring at him with bright brown eyes. Fareeha Amari—Ana's daughter. Despite their close age range, the Amari have been busy with detailed business that the brothers felt that they should not pry at. 

" _ Jesse can be a bit of an airhead but he means well." Fareeha said before, overlooking the Yharnam landscape. "It's nice to see him smile; it really suits him. _ "

They arrived at a large establishment that both blended in with the environment and stood out. The building itself was a dark oaken structure sandwiched between tall gray houses, a few crates lying near the doorway under glass windows. When Jack reached for the door handle, it swung open with a brunette hefting up a large bag in one hand, hoisting it up to her shoulder and wiping her forehead with the back of her free hand. 

"Oh, hey there! I'll ring in your orders in just a bit. Need to put this out for delivery later." The woman winked.

"No problem, Bridgette. Take your time." Jack smiled. He held the door open with his foot and let the others walk on in. The pub had a homely feel to it, dimmed lights went hand in hand with the sunshine pouring in from the windows; warm brown interior with polished wooden booths and tables looked clean enough that Hanzo questioned if it is really a drinking establishment where people would get intoxicated for a plethora of personal reasons. Jack beckoned them to follow him to a booth not too far from the long counter where a familiar hulking figure was busily cleaning an array of glass pints. It was a rather endearing spectacle to behold, seeing the friendly giant Reinhardt cleaning a small glass cup with a tiny wash cloth and a smile on his face. 

"I did not know Reinhardt-san worked here." Genji quipped, practically bouncing on the plush cushions of his seat, earning a stern glare from his brother. He stopped. 

"Well, the Church only pays us so much." The blond chuckled meekly. "Most of us have to look for other side jobs to do in the morning." Ah. That would explain McCree's worn out attire pieces. 

"Wilhelm owns this place." Reyes added, leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes, letting out a small sigh. McCree elbowed him lightly, catching the man's attention as he muttered something in a language Hanzo couldn't understand. Reyes waved him off before Bridgette returned with a tray of water, hurrying back to the back room and apologizing for the wait. 

"What kind of pub opens at this hour anyways? Seems early, does it not?" Genji took the cup of water into hand and mumbled into it. 

"Technically it's not even open now—just think of it as friendly benefits." Jack said. 

"Ah! My friends! I did not hear you walk in." Reinhardt called from the bar. Jack gave him a wave while Reyes gave the man a small casual salute, McCree tipping his hat.  "The usual?"

"Yeah." Reyes then looked over at the Shimada brothers. "Get these two what Jack will have."

Reinhardt gave him a nod and ducked into the back kitchen. 

"You packed everything?" Reyes directed his question towards Hanzo, rubbing a thumb over the rim of his cup. 

"Yes."

"Good. We leave at first light."

"'We'?"

Reyes rubbed the lids of his eyes. "Getting in the city is easy; getting out is a bit tricky."

"Most people come to Yharnam to stay." Jack said carefully, fingers intertwining each other on the wooden table. "Getting out of the city by yourself would lead to complications with the city watch outside the perimeter."

"They want to keep people inside." Hanzo stated. It wasn't a question—it was a revelation. Jack nodded. 

"For safety reasons; I'm sure you can guess why. As you know by now, outsiders come to this city for the healing blood. The blood is cherished by the city, the Church, and its people--you can almost say that it's sacred."

"When the Healing Church gets word that somebody is leaving the city with blood in their possession, well, it ain't pretty." Reyes said grimly. 

"You mentioned before that the Church keeps record of the distribution of this healing blood. Will they not know that I have a vial of it?" Hanzo asked. 

"Whoever said we put your name down in the ledger?" McCree spoke up. 

"You're lucky McCree had to restock on blood vials." The dark man said, taking a sip of water. 

"But Doctor Ziegler gave me the—"

"I only keep a few on me; the Doc usually keeps the rest. Won't be any good if they all happen to bust during a patrol."

"I still can't believe you managed to break five of them just from rolling." Reyes shot him a look. McCree held up with hands in mock-defense. 

"'Ey, it's not my fault that people don't put away their goddamn shit and leave it in the streets."

"Language." Jack chided him. Bridgette and Reinhardt arrived with food and coffee in hand, placing them down in from of the five. Jack, Hanzo, and Genji were presented with a plate with two eggs drizzled with a creamy yellow sauce peppered with chopped up cilantro on top what the brothers would describe as some sort of panko covered circular patty and a soft bagel underneath. Reyes had a similar dish but instead of the patty, there was pulled meat and diced tomatoes. As for McCree...

The four stared, unamused, at his dish to see a handful of thinly sliced potatoes and a thick slab of beef between two buns. He looked at them bewildered. 

"What?"

Jack shook his head, picking up his utensils and cutting through his food while Reyes sighed and pointed at his head. McCree let out a soft 'oh' and took off his hat and scarf, setting it aside on the cushion. Hanzo looked down at his plate, then at Genji. His brother stared back, shrugging and following Jack's lead, cutting into the egg to see the bright yellow yolk spill out, a puff of steam wafting in the air. He plopped a small piece into his mouth.

"This is really good!" Genji exclaimed, eating more ravenously. They haven't ate anything truly considered a meal during their stay, nibbling on small rice balls their mother made for their trip; ume for Hanzo and salmon for Genji. Hanzo cleared his throat, signaling his brother to slow down and recompose himself in front of their acquaintances. Friends? He didn't know. Genji called them friends—then again, he is more sociable compared to his older brother, who keeps to himself most of the time. " _ Anija _ , you should really try it."

"Don't talk with your mouth full." Hanzo chided him, picking up a nearby napkin and promptly covering his brother's mouth. Genji took the white cloth into hand and finished chewing behind it, watching his brother cutting into the food before him and taking a small bit. It was very—savory. And heavy, but filling. He couldn't put his finger on what the pâté was, but it tasted oddly familiar. 

"Crab cakes." Jack said quietly. Hanzo let out a small hum, looking over at Reyes and McCree mingling with one another in their own language. He saw the young man grumbled something under his breath as Reyes laughed, ruffling his hair. McCree nearly knocked over his plate as he tried to swat Reyes's hand away, Jack shooting them a glare when he caught the lip of the dish with a quick hand. The two sheepishly looked away before Reyes elbowed the brown haired teen. 

"They're pretty close. Think they're related?" Genji mumbled in their own tongue, keeping his voice low while swiping the creamy yellow hollandaise sauce off the plate with a small piece of his bagel. 

"I would not know, nor am I interested." He sniffed disdainfully, taking his cup into hand. 

"I just didn't expect him to be so..relaxed towards him. He acts very professional towards others."

"Hm." Hanzo merely grunted, subtly eyeing the two laughing across from him. He wondered if his own father would be happy to see his eldest son again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was craving crab cake eggs benedict when I wrote this chapter sorry.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bros being bros (can be McGenji if you want it to be, I don't really mind).

Hanzo left without saying much, only bowing and muttering a quiet 'thank you' and 'keep an eye out for my brother' towards Morrison and Reyes. McCree watched as he boarded the ship, a lithe hand trailing along the wooden railing, lifting off the surface in a graceful and fluid motion. The man huffed quietly to himself. 

_ Think he's royalty or something.  _

During their stay, McCree tried being friendly towards the older Shimada brother, already befriending the more lax Genji Shimada. Yet Hanzo kept himself at a distance, McCree remembering how he gave him a disgusted look at..well, almost everything he did. Tipping his hat earned him a roll of eyes; winking made him grimace; and simply talking seemed to grate his nerves. 

"Look, I tried being reasonable with'cha but you've been avoiding me like the plague, sweet cheeks." The nickname slipped from his tongue and deadly daggers glared at him. They were in the small study room attached to the chapel, Genji helping Angela moving supplies and crate full of chemicals to a carriage outside. 

"What are you insistent about this time, you fool?" Hanzo seethed, the fingers wrapped around the taunt leather grip of his sword tightened, knuckles blooming white. The last thing he had to pack up.

"I saved you from a wolf beast when you first arrived in this town and this is how you thank me?" McCree threw up his hands. 

"Speak sense."

"I'm trying to make friends with ya. But you are being such a goddamn prick about it!"

"I did not come here to 'make friends,' you fool—"

"Why can't you be more like your brother and actually talk to people instead of hiding like some coward—" McCree barely had time to react when Hanzo lunged towards him, the sharp curved blade pressing against his throat. He could feel a thin warm trickle of blood running down his Adam's apple. 

"Do you think this is a game? That I came to this city to befriend a man that lets his emotions gets the best of him? You are nothing but a childish fool—no different from those mindless beasts that roam in the night." Hanzo said lowly, his voice dark and venomous. "Never compare me to my brother. We are nothing alike."

" _ Anija _ !"

The two turned to see Genji at the opened door, Angela behind him, clasping both hands across her mouth in surprise. Hanzo clicked his tongue, standing up and drawing the blade away from McCree's throat, sheathing it and briskly walking towards the trap door leading to the Tomb of Oedon. Angela hurried over to McCree's side, checking the small cut but he waved her away, brows furrowed and eyes glaring at where Hanzo left. The doctor pursed her lips before standing up, hands pressed against her lap in a polite manner. She told them that she will be heading out to the clinic not too far away and will keep an eye out if she sees Hanzo along the way. Genji nodded in her direction before looking at McCree, sitting besides him. 

"What the hell is your brother's problem?" He asked, irritated, bringing the brim of his hat lower as a snarl made his lips curl. Genji was quiet. 

"Hanzo is...he has a lot of responsibilities as the eldest son in our clan. The clan elders and our father trained him to be a leader, to be professional, to say what people want to hear without selling yourself out, to be smart—he has a lot of weight on his shoulders." Genji brought his knees up to his chin. "All he knows is business and combat—making friends is strange to him because he spends so much time preparing to become the heir of our family."

"Y'make it sound like it's the clan's fault for his behavior." McCree simmered down marginally, taking out his lighter and flicking it on and off repeatedly. The foreign Hunter next to him let out a hum, a forlorn smile on his face.

"It kind of is." Genji sighed. "Hanzo is very prideful and has a stick up his ass, but he means well. I would say to give him time, but time is not on our side, in this case."

McCree huffed out a small laugh. "And what 'bout you? You're like the complete opposite of him. Full of sunshine. Just 'cause yer younger?"

"Part of it, yeah. I have responsibilities as well but I choose not to act upon them; I want no part of our family business. You remember what Reyes said? How our father would want to mass produce the blood if we ever got our hands on it? He was not wrong. Sort of." McCree stared, halting his actions with the lighter in hand. "It was not our father's order, per se, but the elders'. Our family is a crime syndicate—we sell illegal drugs and weapons, among other services. So imagine what would happen if we started selling blood that can heal any wound or illness."

"But they don't know what other things the blood can do." McCree's voice had a hint of warning. Genji nodded.

"Even if we warned them of this...beast curse or whatever is in the blood, the clan wouldn't bat an eye away from monopolizing on something that could sell so well. They'd just blame it on somebody else—in this case, Yharnam."

"Wouldn't the buyers know that your family got it from the city then?"

"We have an army of warriors that are feared by many—threats usually fall on deaf ears in the clan. If anything, they're more of a challenge." They fell silent.

Now that McCree thought about it, the two brothers aren't so different from him. Brought up in a life of crime, always being pressured into doing what is best for your elders, but never yourself--he can relate to it. Images of fire burning around him flashed in his mind, the wooden beam above his head groaning and cracking with splinters. A man was trapped under two fallen shelves, trying to get up. Jesse took a step back when the man yelled at him for help, spewing out curses and heated words that he heard over and over again. Words became snarls, the man's body contorting with the sickening sounds of bone breaking and popping, eyes turning white and black fur growing from his skin.

He ran.

McCree ran as soon as he heard the ceiling above him cracking under all the pressure of the fire and debris of the rooftop, everything caving into the building. The boy luckily got out of the doorway, falling face first onto the cobblestone streets and looking up to see everything set ablaze. 

"McCree?"

He snapped his head up and looked to his side, Genji giving him a worried glance. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Yeah. Let's—let's go take a walk. Get some fresh air. All this dreary talk ain't good for us." McCree stood up, holding out a hand towards Genji and pulling him up. Winston gave them a small nod and smile as they walked out of the chapel, the child in his arms cooing and babbling under the red cloth. 

"I've been meaning to ask."

"Shoot."

"What's your relationship with Reyes?" Genji asked with genuine curiosity. "Is he your father?" That made McCree stop in his tracks, staring at the ground, brim of his hat hiding his eyes. "Oh. Sorry if I—"

"No, no! I was just. That was kinda out of the blue. Caught me a little off guard." He reassured the younger, tipping his hat up. McCree licked his chapped lips in thought. "He's not my dad in blood, but he did raise me up with Jack and Ana."

Genji waited for him to elaborate. He did not. 

"So..what do you do for fun around here?" McCree cocked a brow in his direction. "I mean I am going to be staying here for a while until Doctor Ziegler finishes the purification process of the blood." The young Hunter let out a contemplative hum. 

"Dunno, to be honest. Reyes usually makes me do rounds in Cathedral Ward."

"But...?"

"What d'ya mean 'but'?" McCree looked at him, appalled. "I'll have you know that I do a very good job—"

"At slacking off?" Genji laughed. McCree shoved his shoulder playfully as they walked down the streets, their laughter bouncing along the walls. "I doubt you like doing patrols all day long." The other scratched his nose. 

"Ah. Yeah. I mean, it can get a little interesting at times. There was this one time where..." He hasn't talked this much in a long time, telling Genji the tales of his misadventures as a young Hunter being trained by Reyes, going in great grandeur about his missions during the Hunt, describing how he shot six beasts in rapid succession. McCree talked adamantly, carefree, and smile all the while, gesturing with his hands and arm as a whole to emphasize on parts of his stories. Shadows grew from the towering buildings and lanterns flickered on, illuminating the streets as rickety carriages meandered by. It's getting late. 

"Sorry."

Genji looked at him. "For what? You didn't do anything wrong."

"I've been babbling all day long with ya walking by my side—musta been annoying for you." He tugged his scarf closer to his chin. Genji laughed; it was airy and light-hearted. 

"Not at all! Sure, I didn't believe some of the stories you told me, but it was fun to listen nonetheless!" The sound of barking dogs in the distance made them walk a little faster towards the safety of the chapel, candlelight dancing through the stained glass windows, a figure talking lowly to Winston outside. He held the child in his hand closer, a grimace on his face. McCree held up a hand to stop Genji and motioned him to hide around the corner. 

"Why are we hiding?" Genji whispered. McCree glared at the figure wearing a long black robe, slender hands gesturing as they talked to the bespectacled man. He recognized the black and red attire—Talon. 

" _ Those gringos from the School of Talon—never trust them, Jesse. All they want is whatever is in your little head and use it against you. _ " He heard Reyes voice again. " _ Why the Church is associated with them, I don't know. But don't let your guard down around them. If you ever see them, let me know. _ "

The Talon student bowed at Winston as a farewell, heading in the direction towards the grand cathedral. McCree and Genji emerged from the shadows and walked towards the man. 

"Is everything alright?" McCree asked, brows furrowed and glancing over at the direction of the robed man. Winston sighed, both stressed from the situation and relieved that the two teens asked about his well-being. 

"Yes. It's just the usual; some student from the School of Talon tried to take this little guy away for their 'experiment' in evolution and science." He hushed the child as it whined. 

"How's the little fella doing?" McCree wiggled a finger in front of the bundle of cloth, only to be caught by tiny black hands and a giggle emitting from it. Genji saw Winston carefully move the fabric aside to see a baby primate in a rich black coat and bright yellow eyes looking at him, curious. Many people have mistook the poor monkey as a beast, Winston trying his best to keep him a secret from the prying eyes of the Choir and other scientists that dabbled in strange experiments, saying that he sees potential in it. What kind, McCree never asked. 

"I should probably go report to Reyes." McCree said, his smile falling into a more somber expression. "If Talon was here, he'd want to know." The scholar nodded, wrapping the small ape back into a discrete bundle of red and taking a seat near the array of candles and pots, murmuring to it. 

"I'm curious. You've shown me around most of Yharnam, but you never told me what's behind those doors." McCree froze and scratched the tiny scruff of his chin.

"Well, I guess there's no harm in showing ya since you're gonna be with us for a while. I know Reyes and Morrison 'ave been considering to let you join the Hunter's Watch in the meantime while Angie works on the cure. So." He shrugged, motioning the younger to follow him. McCree pushed the door open, the key hidden under his sleeve being pushed into a small keyhole and clicking open; some weird mechanism Torbjorn made that Jesse didn't bother to understand. As long as he had the key, it was all good. They walked down the small corridor and stepped onto a carved stone platform held on by two sturdy chains, McCree pushing a foot down on a circular button in the middle. There was a sound of shifting stone and metal, the chains rattling as the two ascended upward the stone shaft, finding themselves in a small room with an open view of the city landscape, a bunch of boxes littered about near the walls. Some were labeled with a strange symbol while most were not. McCree beckoned Genji to follow him across the narrow bridge, the other young man looking over to the side at the Yharnam landscape, sun setting low on the horizon as the sky turned into a mixed canvas of deep purple, pink, and a tinge of orange spread about. He can see some stars twinkling faintly in the oncoming night sky. 

"Nice view, ain't it? Usually go on the rooftops and just watch the sunset sometimes."

"It's very beautiful." Genji nodded with a breathless smile. "But you should see Hanamura; I think you would appreciate its beauty more than all these grey buildings and stone."

"Oh?" McCree humored him with a mock offended look. "How so?"

"Well, there's sakura trees—pink petals floating about and covering the ground in a blanket of them. Those get Hanamura a lot of tourists. Our air is cleaner than yours; no congesting smoke from fireplaces, clear skies at night where you can see the stars with no problem at all—"

"I take it that Hanamura is where you and yer brother came from." McCree led him to the side of the circular tower towards a broken off section, jumping down and telling Genji to follow suit. 

"Yes. In a castle on the cliff side with high walls." Genji jumped down. "Felt more like a prison."

They walked further down until stopping at a set of opened doors that peered down into an abysmal chasm of darkness, beams strewn out here and there. "What—are we suppose to go all the way to the bottom?"

"Not quite. Follow my lead." McCree sauntered down the beam in front of them casually, as if he has done this many times before. He sidle towards the end of the beam and onto a broken wooden platform, jumping down with a grunt. The young man looked up at Genji, waving him down. "C'mon!" McCree saw Genji take a deep breath before quickly making his way across the beam and jumping down the platform, straightening himself next to the man. They looked down into the pitch black hole, McCree kicking a lone piece of wood off the side to see it tumble down, disappearing into the darkness below and hearing the clattering sound a few seconds later, echoing against stone. Genji gave him a wary glance. 

"See that door?" McCree pointed below them where a familiar set of double wooden doors with silver decor gracing its surface glistened against the lone candlelight from above. "We gotta there."

"That's—quite a ways down." Genji's adventurous demeanor was now replaced with dubious concern, glancing up warily at McCree. Jesse gave him a reassuring pat on the back. 

"Sometimes, we jus' gotta take a leap of faith." He jumped down from where the stood, feeling the wind rush past him and the exhilaration of adrenaline pumping through his body as he landed hard on the surprisingly sturdy wooden plank where the doors stood. He will need to ask the others to repair the boards, a foot feeling a creak beneath him. McCree looked up and held both arms out. "Don't worry! I'll catch ya!"

Genji cautiously took a step forward before steeling himself with an audible gulp, taking two steps back and running off. McCree caught him in his arms, hearing Genji yelp in surprise. A laugh almost bursted out of him until he heard wood splintering beneath them. Immediately, McCree kicked the doors open with Genji still being carried bridal style in his arms and ran into the threshold, turning around and looking behind them to see a section of the platform crumbling and falling into the abyss. Genji gave him a look. 

"Uh. Yeah. I'll tell Torbjorn to fix that. Or something." He let the ninja down, apologizing profusely for invading his personal space.

"Why is this door out of place? It seems strange for there to be a path down here."

"See for yourself." He motioned towards the doorway that opened up into a large garden with stone and dark steel fences surrounded the area, a towering building planted in the middle. The white flowers swayed back and forth against the evening breeze, Genji looking around as they walked along the stone pathway up to the wooden house. This area made no sense to Genji—he could see parts of Yharnam in the distance but they were technically at a lower elevation. "What is this place?"

A smile was on McCree face, but he smiled more with his eyes. 

"Welcome to the Hunter's Watch."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enter cool mom Shimada and kind-of-a-dick dad Shimada.
> 
> And doggos.

"Young master, it is good to see you again." The servant bowed monotonously at Hanzo, facial expression blank—like a painted wind-up doll. He nodded, handing her his bag when she extended both hands towards him, palms up. Hanamura looked exactly the same as when he left; the everlasting cherry blossom trees still in full bloom, pink petals fluttering in the air and filling the streets in a soft pastel blanket. Several of the shop owners greeted Hanzo when he walked through the streets going uphill towards Shimada castle, wrinkled eyes smiling at him with a generous bow. It was as if he never left his home to begin with—but he was gone for nearly two months. Two weeks traveling to Yharnam with his brother, two weeks learning the ways of blood transfusion with Doctor Ziegler, and two weeks traveling back on a rickety boat, isolating himself in his cabin reading a book he took from Winston's study room that he and Genji borrowed during their stay. 

Pthumerians and Old Gods. Something about an ancient civilization beneath current day Yharnam where people worshipped ethereal beings from the celestial planes known as the Great Ones. Mythos and ancient history has always intrigued the young man, pouring in hours upon hours during his studies to read small transcripts of other worldly beings from different regions. 

"I shall tell the elders of your return." Her voice said without any emotions. 

"Where is my father?" Hanzo asked. The servant blinked blankly. Only once. 

"Lord Shimada is currently occupied with a trade exchange. It would be wise not to disturb such meeting, young master."

"And my mother?"

"Lady Shimada is in the gardens."

Hanzo quickly made his way down the corridors, his footsteps nearly silently against the polished dark wooden flooring. There were quiet murmurs behind some of the white paper sliding doors, the clinking sound of servants in the kitchen bustling about, brush strokes lathered in pitch black ink drawing out elegant calligraphy against parchment, and—

As soon as Hanzo opened a set of double sliding doors, the handle adorned as a golden chrysanthemum, he nearly fell onto his back from a giant white beast tackling him. Whines echoed in his ears as his face was being slobbered by a wet tongue, the young man letting out a small laugh he couldn't hide, along with hushed words of assurance. 

"It is good to see you, Haku." Hanzo ruffled the wolf's fluffy white mane, it's dark beady eyes blinking closed, smiling at him. A thumb traced the yellow paint streak decorating around the wolf's eyes before feeling something nudge the back of his knees, looking down to see a brown wolf with similar markings, only this time being a bright crimson red. It nuzzled against Hanzo's leg, letting out a whine and small yip. He rolled his eyes and patted the wolf's head. "You as well, Haru." Both wolves pranced around him, tails wagging in excitement as Hanzo stepped into the room. It was a dark plain room with regular flooring, a small, low table situated in the middle surrounded by periwinkle cushions. The teapot and cup on the table is still hot, steam flowing up into loose coils and disappearing towards the ceiling. Its simplicity complimented the open garden filled with hydrangea bushes and a lavender willow tree. Haku and Haru ran towards a woman standing by a small shrub, looking down at the blooming flowers thoughtfully until the wolves were at her side, rubbing against her outfit before looking towards Hanzo. He held his breath when the woman turned around. Long jet black hair swayed fluidly behind her, not a strand out of place; deep, warm brown eyes glanced over to him, widening in surprise. Before he knew it, the sound of fluttering cloth and fabric filled his ears, the woman pulling him into an embrace, pale warm hands cupping the side of his face before peppering his forehead and cheeks with kisses. 

"It is good to see you safe, Hanzo." She checked him over, thin brows knitting with worry. "You did not get hurt, did you?"

"I am fine,  _ okaasan _ ." He said with a small tittle of laughter escaping him. His mother has always been a worry-wart—so kind and caring. A hand smoothed out his hair.

"Where is your brother? Is he not with you?"

Hanzo froze, pursing his lips. "He is well. Genji is still at Yharnam; he is waiting for the final product of the cure to be completed." A hand went fumbling to a small satchel tied to his belt around the grey obi, taking out the small vial, red liquid sloshing about inside. His mother gave him a bewildered expression, eyes glancing up from the vial to him. 

"Hanzo."

"I came back with a temporary cure. It should give you time—"

"Hanzo." She repeated, taking his hands into hers. He didn't even notice he was shaking, looking down to see his wrists tremor with fear. Fear of the inevitable. Warm eyes turned sharp, stern, but softened when Hanzo let out a shaky breath. "Hanzo, dear, you should know better than to play against death. It is merely the cycle of life, you know this. Look at me." She cupped his face towards her, bringing his eyes up from lingering towards the small bundle of red lycoris tied together beneath the willow tree. 

"I want you to know that I love you. Truly. You, your brother, and your father. My little dragons." She pinched his cheeks, Hanzo whining at the gesture, trying to swat her hands away. Just like when he was younger. "When the time comes, we will just have to accept it. I know this is not something you want on your mind and no child of mine should suffer from the pain of such thoughts plaguing their mind. But it will be okay."

"But you will walk alone." Hanzo said sullenly. 

"I will wait patiently on the other side. Always." She smiled. "But enough of that. Tell me about your journey. It must have been quite exciting to visit new lands." They ambled towards the room, stepping up onto the tatami mats and sitting across from each other at the small table. His mother poured a cup of a tea for the both of them. 

"There is little to say. We slept during our boat ride there and wound up in a small fishing village by the coast. The city, Yharnam, is quite...peculiar. He glanced up from his tea cup, his mother listening intently, waiting for him to continue. “Tall buildings as far as the eyes can see; fences made of black metal that look more like spears reaching for the heavens, whether to protect the denizens or keep what is inside away from the outside world, I do not know.” He huffed out a small chuckle, hand wrapping around the small clay cup.

"What is it?" His mother asked, curious. Hanzo was quiet for a moment, peering at his own reflection in his drink, tapping a finger against the sides. 

"You were not wrong about the creatures outside of our home." The images of the wolf beasts were burned into his mind with their snarling fangs and elongated claws; the cries of the cleric beast ringing echoes in his ears, a large arm pummeling into buildings and the ground before them. "Genji and I have seen several beasts—men turned into these wolf-like monsters. There were three of them. We took them out easily. But not without help." Hanzo let out a sigh, more exasperated than necessary. He looked up again, wondering if his mother would be disappointed that her sons could not handle mere beasts by themselves. Instead, she smiled, waiting for him to finish. 

"A boy, I believe he is around my age, came out of nowhere and—" He grimaced. "He tore the beast's heart out. Like a savage."

Hanzo still remembered how he and Genji witnessed this scruffy young man leaping out of nowhere in harm's way to defeat a beast that had eyes on them. Accurate gun shots towards vital organs and even piercing his hand—somehow—through the wolf beast's chest and pulling out its heart, throwing it aside as if it was nothing. He heard a small hum of contemplation, seeing his mother take a sip of her tea and setting the cup down with a soft click. 

"It is an ancient act shared by many around the world to make sure that the beast would not rise again from the dead. The _oni_ and _yokai_ have the same weakness, but many Hunters have been scorned from such action due to how it is no different than us humans becoming beasts themselves." She said carefully. "Now we hunt with finesse and skill, being more refined to remind ourselves that we are human. Not like our ancestors that feasted on the blood of our enemies with jagged maws and blood-lust eyes. We aim for the mind, where all the truths are hidden."

Hanzo stared at his mother, her gaze downcast before the two turned to hear the door slide open, the younger immediately standing up and bowing as a man strode slowly inside, long black and silver hair resting in front of his shoulder was tied loosely by a gold ribbon, his attire much more elegant compared to Hanzo's current Hunter gear.

"Rise, Hanzo; there is no need for such formality with family when we are together like this." The strong voice said with a hint of fondness, Hanzo lifting up from his bowed form to see his father smiling at him. They took their seats around the small square table, his father letting out a weary sigh. He looked around the room. "Where is Genji?"

"He is still in Yharnam, waiting for the cure to be fully purified of any scourge essence." Hanzo said stiffly. He didn't want to leave Genji behind at all, feeling as if he betrayed his own brother for his own safety. But Genji's safety meant so much more to him than anything else in the world right now. He is his brother and best friend—his only friend. "I did not mean to—"

"You left your brother in a city filled with people that praise the blood of beasts as if it is a god?" The soft features on his father's face turned into sharp steel, Hanzo flinching under his gaze. "You should know better than to abandon Genji to strangers, especially in the outside world."

"Gouto." His mother said sternly towards the man, thin brows furrowing. Hanzo's fingers dug through the fabric of his pants, letting out a shaky breath. He doesn't want to argue with his father right now. He doesn't want to be reminded of his duties as the eldest son. He doesn't want—

"They were going to kill him." The words spilled from his lips, fingers twitching on his lap, wanting to cover his mouth. Both his parents eyes locked onto him in surprise and confusion. 

"What are you talking about?" Gouto leaned forward, a mixture of emotions apparent on his face. Shock; anger; disappointment; curiosity. Hanzo wants to leave the room now. The walls felt like they were closing in on him, suffocating him as his parents continued to stare, waiting for a response. How is he suppose to tell them that he overheard the elder's disappointment in Genji? That they would make sure the Dragon of the North Wind would choose wisely once more?

"Hanzo."

Hanzo felt a hand resting on his, looking up to see his mother giving him a worried look. She smiled and gave his hand a small reassuring squeeze, the warmth of the room returning from her touch. He took in a deep breath. 

And so he told them. Hanzo told his mother and father what he overheard a few weeks on a moonless night before setting off to Yharnam. The words still ring in his head to this day, how they blamed Gouto for being so lenient with Genji—how they are more than willing to get rid of him somehow so that the dragons can choose again. 

"...You are sure you heard correctly, Hanzo?" Gouto was rubbing his temple, elbow resting on the lowered table and heaving out a heavy sigh. Hanzo nodded. Another tired sigh. "I believe I will need to speak to the elders to see if what you told us is true."

"Why speak to them?" Hanzo's mother interjected harshly. Both men looked at her in surprise. She rarely raises her voice to anyone in anger, always having a calm and kind demeanor towards others.

"Hifumi..."

"What makes you think that they would not lie between their teeth? We both know how the elders act—brazen fools is what the are."

"We do not have proof of Hanzo's accusations. If we state what our son has told us, the clan would go into a state of chaos. We cannot have a divided community within these walls." Gouto said. "This is a delicate situation that has been thrown upon us."

"I am sorry. I did not mean—" Hanzo tried to apologize before his father held up a hand to stop him. 

"I know, son. I know. You did not mean to leave Genji behind; it was for his own safety. But I do not trust him to be alone by himself in unknown territory and lands faraway from our sights." Gouto stood up. "I will have to think on this matter. Do not tell anyone of what we have spoken about in this room; do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Father." Hanzo said quietly. Gouto Shimada turned away and headed for the sliding doors, his light footsteps fading away down the hallway as Hanzo slumped in his seat. Hifumi stood up as well. 

"You should rest, Hanzo. I am sure your journey has left you quite weary." A soft smile was on her lips. "If I know your father well enough, he will send a scout to check on Genji. Do not worry, my dear. Everything will be fine."

Hanzo sighed, still seated. The wolves snuck inside the building, whimpering and nuzzling under his arms, resting their snouts on his chest. He pet their soft fur, scratching Haku's chin before nodding at his mother. "Very well."

"Ah! I almost forgot!" She took out something small hidden within her _obi_ , handing it over to Hanzo when he made his way to the door. Bewildered, he turned over the small wooden object in his hand. It looked like a snail shell with two hollowed out slots; one towards the more tapered end while the other acted as an air hole. A strange glyph was burned onto its surface.

"A whistle?"

"Only use it when you feel that you are in great danger, Hanzo. This gift is not a toy, nor should it be abused."

"What does it do?" Hanzo was tempted to try it out, his arm almost bringing it to his lips until he saw his mother scowling at him. He let his hand fall to the side. 

"You will know when the time is right."

Hanzo rolled it between his fingers, feeling the smooth wooden texture that felt more like glass. He threw the cord over his head and let the whistle sit around his neck, still fiddling with it. It was warm to the touch and seemed to thrum against his fingertips.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate this chapter so much.

McCree fumbled through his slack pockets to take out a strange black key, the head of the key having a peculiar shape to it. A red moon. Before turning it to hear the tumblers click into place, McCree paused, listening for something else. Voices. 

"...the...again?" He could barely make out Morrison's voice, tilting his head to the side as if it would make hearing whatever is going on beyond the door better.

"It's fine." Reyes sounded closer to the door, McCree turning the key and opening it to see the man standing in front of them. There was a brief moment of awkward silence as they stared at each other, dumbfounded. Reyes raised a brow, mouth opening to speaking until rapid footsteps came from behind him.

"Jesse!" Fareeha ducked under Reyes's arm holding the door open, bouncing up to the young man and grabbing his hand. "Mother made some snacks! C'mon!"

McCree held onto his hat as he was dragged away by the child, Fareeha's hair bouncing and shining against the candlelight inside. He heard Reyes heave out a sigh behind him and telling Genji to follow, the foreigner walking quietly behind them. They made their way towards an open kitchen area, Ana Amari standing in front of the black iron stove, cleaning her hands of flour on her apron. 

"Ah. There you children are. I made some treats for you three." The woman smiled. "Go wash up and it should be ready within the next ten minutes." Genji looked around as McCree and Fareeha were at the nearby sink, washing their hands. 

"This building is strange. From outside, it looked quite small." The teen said, looking up at the ceiling where the rafters were decorated with small paper stars dangling by thin strands of twine.

"Eh. You get used to it after a while. Don't really question it that much either." McCree shrugged, drying his hands on a clean rag and hanging up his hat on a nearby coat rack. In all honesty, he didn't understand the strange abode as well. When he first arrived at the age of 12, he didn't know what to make of it either. From the outside, the base looked like a small ordinary one floor house that fitted in with the Yharnam architecture; dark and gothic—dreary like the rest of the city. But it is what it is—despite its isolation from society, despite the weapons taken apart and lying on a workbench table, despite its rambunctious dysfunctional residence--it is his home. 

The interior is much more homely and warming in contrast; polished reddish brown oaken walls decorated with a multitude of framed photographs and paintings, oil lamp sconces lighting the rooms and hallways, and a faux-golden gramophone idling about on a nearby decorative table. McCree watched Genji look back and forth between the entrance of the home and the kitchen they were in. He laughed at the foreigner's bewildered expression, completely baffled by the impossibility of how the architecture of the building works. 

"Pretty weird, huh?"

"It is very...disorienting." Genji followed McCree and Fareeha to a dinner table, seating himself in between the two. "I take it this is where you reside within the city?"

McCree nodded. "Reyes, Morrison, and Ana found this place a long time ago and ever since, we use it as our base. For the Hunter's Watch."

"When I grow up, I'm going to join the Hunter's Watch too." Fareeha said proudly, huffing out her chest with pride. Ana tutted at her as she walked towards the table with a tray of baked goods and a tea set. The mother and daughter combo went back and forth about Fareeha's future, Ana saying that she forbids her child to become a Hunter and get involved in a dangerous world filled with beasts and the unknown. McCree felt a hand on his head, looking up to see Reyes. 

"Howdy, Boss." He gave the man a languid salute. 

"Is there still coffee in the pot?" Reyes asked, his voice riddled with weariness as he plopped down in an empty chair at the table, leaning back on the wooden chair. 

"No, we ran out this morning. You're a grown man; go make it yourself, Gabriel."

A groan came from the man, tipping his head back dramatically before standing up again and heading for the kitchen counter, picking up a silver French presser and sifting through a variety of jars in the cabinets. 

"I take it that Jack went to go see the Healing Church?" Ana asked in a hushed tone, arranging more pastries on a large circular platter. Reyes took a glance over his shoulder towards the kids.

"Yeah. They called for him earlier today but he had to take care of paperwork first. Didn't specify what for, but it probably isn't good."

"It usually isn't." Ana said grimly. "I know you worry about him, but Jack can handle himself. He's not your subordinate anymore—you're both commanding officers within the Hunter's Watch."

Reyes sighed. "I don't trust what the Healing Church is doing. Think about it, Ana; Old Yharnam fell apart because the water systems were poisoned. And who immediately came to the rescue with antidote readily available? Who started promoting blood as a miracle medicine?"

The woman looked over her shoulder, Fareeha and Jesse talking adamantly with one another as Genji nodded politely, listening intently. The foreigner glanced up at the two adults, as if he was eavesdropping on them the entire time. 

"Perhaps we should talk about this another time." Ana said, twirling around with the platter in one hand and grabbing a pitcher with the other. Fareeha immediately went for a fluffy piece of bread with chocolate and honey drizzled on top while Jesse grabbed a simple chocolate chip cookie. He gestured at the plate, smiling at Genji. 

"Knock yer self out. Ana's a great cook and baker." The young man gingerly reached out for a round golden bun and looked around again. Ana sat down across from them, wiping Fareeha's cheek from stray bread crumbs while Reyes sat down next to her, a ceramic cup in hand with an equally dark drink inside, steam puffing and swirling about. 

"McCree has told me you two found this place, correct?" Genji spoke up. 

"In a manner of speaking." Ana said, sipping her tea before placing the small cup back on the gold laced platter with a tiny clink. "Jack, Gabriel, and I were surveying the area and found this place under the Upper Cathedral Ward. Didn't seem like anybody was using it, so we set up a base here for the Hunter's Watch."

"How exactly did the Hunter's Watch came to be?" Genji asked. 

"What else? Healing Church saw that monsters were roaming around the city and attacking the populace. So they grabbed a bunch of soldiers and townsfolk willing to fight and give them weapons." Reyes murmured into his cup. "Somebody's gotta do the job."

"I do not understand; people turn into beasts because of the consumption of this...blood. It seems counter intuitive to feed the townspeople with this cursed blood to heal themselves, only to kill them later."

"They didn't know consequences until it was too late." McCree spoke up, his gaze downcast at the table. "Nothing has to make sense for those that want power."

A clap made the two younger men jump in their seats as Ana smiled and told them to clean up, telling Fareeha to say her goodbyes—much to her disappointment—to them as they went and left. 

"I thought this was a home for all members of the Watch." Genji looked at McCree, whom was unbuckling his holster. 

"Well, I mean, it kinda is, but the only people that really live here are me, Reyes, and Jack. Everybody else lives kind of close by, so it's no big deal." The young man said, weighing the pistol in hand before setting it down on a nearby table. "But now that you're part of the Hunter's Watch, I guess I should give you the run down of what you should expect."

"Yeah, no." Reyes clamped down a hand on McCree's head. "Go take a bath; you smell terrible."

"Whaaaat? I didn't even go near the sewers this time." McCree took a whiff at his shirt. There was a slight tinge of sweat mixed in the cotton fibers, but other than that, there wasn't anything repulsive or unusual. 

"Go on before Jack comes back and gives you an earful."

With a groan, McCree rolled his eyes and headed for the staircase, grumbling along the way as Genji stared and let out a small tittle of laughter. A calloused hand rested on his shoulder, making him freeze and looking at Reyes. 

"I need you to answer some questions, if you don't mind." He motioned the kid to follow him to the small living room, two plush chairs facing a fireplace that was already lit up, several weapons hanging over the mantle. Reyes gestured towards the seat and Genji obliged, hopping on and politely folding his hands together. The man sat down with a sigh. "There's something that's been bothering me lately since your arrival to the city."

"Yes?"

"You and your brother are the heirs of the Shimada Clan, one of the most powerful and notorious families within Hanamura in the Far East lands." He spoke lowly and carefully. "What I don't understand is why your father would send his sons to do the family's dirty work instead of a servant or agent. The Shimadas are well trained, if I recall correctly. It seems strange to me that the ruler of the clan would allow his sons—his only children—to put themselves in danger like this."

"What are you implying?" Genji's brows furrowed. "That our father sent us to our deaths? He would never do that."

"Yet here you are in unknown territory with beasts unlike those at home."

"Do you think he would actually send some incompetent foot-soldier to a city filled with people drunk with bloodlust to retrieve an elixir that doesn't exist?" The young boy scoffed. "And why should he be at fault when the elders are the one that ordered such task on my brother? I may be young, but I would be a fool to not see through their deceit.

"The elders are the true leaders of the Shimada Clan; every order comes from them and their words must be followed like a holy creed. They told my father to send Hanzo to uphold this task not only because he is skilled enough for such thing, but because they want him out of the picture so that my family is vulnerable and can be easily taken out and replaced. Do you know why Hanzo and I are the best in the clan? Because we were gifted at birth with the spirit of the dragons that guard our clan. But did you also know that Hanzo has two dragons? When the elders found out about his unique gift, they were scared of him. 

"With my father having little say in the council and my mother dying from illness, the elders saw an opportunity to send the eldest away to get rid of me. They know well that I loathe to accept their orders like a faithful mutt, seeing me as a hinderance. Hanzo knew what they were planning and took me with him to keep me safe." Genji's fingers curled into the plush chair's surface, eyes flaring.

"But in turn, you leave your parents exposed to the elders."

Genji's eyes widened before deflating down in the chair, looking aside to the fireplace. 

"They know better than to attack them when we are away. Because when we find out what happened during our absence, they will all be dead by our blades."

"You two are willing to attack the elders, just like that?"

"The hierarchy of the clan is some convoluted shit that has little meaning in today's civilization." Genji glared at the man. "Why set somebody on a pedestal when the real source of power is hidden behind a shroud?"

A chuckle emanated from Reyes. "Yeah. You'll do good in the Hunter's Watch. But if my information is correct on your family, you won't be safe for long."

"If they send an assassin, I will be ready."


	8. Chapter 8

_ 22 years later... _

 

Everything went rushing pass by him like a blur, the colors melding into a muddle green and black with the occasional white chasing after him. The sound of leaves and grass rustling around him was drowned out by the heavy panting of a beast hot on his tail, letting out a snarl before leaping towards the man. 

Hanzo turned around and fired an arrow down the beast's throat, ducking as the body went flying over him with a gurgle, choking to death and going limp on the dark grass. The wind whistled by, tree lines and brushes shuddering as the sun dipped below the horizon, owls hooting in the distance and crickets chirping nearby. Hanzo flicked the yellow ribbon over his shoulder and continued through the forest, parting the green thicket before finding himself at a cliffside overlooking tall buildings that looked vaguely familiar to him, moonlight shining down on the pointed tips of the rooftops and a clock tower striking evening, heavy bells tolling from its direction. 

_ Ah. This place. _

Yharnam, the city of blood ministration and beasts lurking in the dark; the echoes of the past whispering underneath cobblestone pathways and pressed dirt roads leading into a labyrinth of an anomaly long forgotten. Or so the books say, as Hanzo remembers reading the tales of the Pthumerians, feeling the old book heavy in his pack. 

Twenty-two years. Twenty-two years since he has set foot in this dismal city. Twenty-two years of not seeing his younger brother again. The images of Genji smiling casually and eyes glimmering with excitement in his mind seemed like a long distant memory. Hanzo smiled fondly to himself before hearing the words of the elders echoing in his ears again like a menacing taunt.   
  


_ "What do you mean that you will not allow us to send more agents to Yharnam?" Gouto snarled in the council room, his fingers curling into his palm, fists digging deep into his hakama. "My youngest son is still in foreign lands by himself—" _

_ "He went to Yharnam on his own volition." One of the elders spoke up, their face obscured by the shadows casted by the flickering candlelight dancing in the dim audience chamber. _

_ "He went because Hanzo knew better than to leave him with you snakes." The man rose up from his seat, glaring at the eight elders sitting high above on elevated platforms, four in a row on each side. They cant their head in unison, like owls scheming something.  _

_ "Hanzo?" _

_ "Ah, we knew that young man would be trouble." _

_ "He was loyal to us once, but his brother has made him weak." _

_ "Genji has made you weak as well, Gouto." _

_ "Protecting him from his duties like a babe." _

_ "Feeding us lies." _

_ "And we do not tolerate such weakness in the Shimada clan." _

_ "Do you understand, Gouto Shimada?" _

_ Gouto gritted his teeth, glaring up at the elders. Hanzo stood outside the paper screen door decorated with dragons and cranes, ocean waves swirling about with elegant lines weaving through each other. _

_ His hand gripped onto the whistle around his neck, crumpling a worn out piece of paper in the other. _

_ The letters stopped coming from Yharnam after a month, Genji's words of his adventures in Yharnam made his brother smile fondly at the black calligraphy on rich parchment paper folded neatly and sealed with red wax.  _

_ "McCree is strange, but funny! I think you would have liked him if you stayed longer." _

_ "They have invited me to the Hunter's Watch! The building is very strange. Small on the outside, big on the inside. Like some kind of sorcery." _

_ "Angela says that the medicine is almost ready. I will let you know as soon as I can." _

_ The last letter was a charcoal drawing of three dragons and the words 'I miss you, okaasan, and tousan' written beneath them. _

_ Hanzo slide the doors open and walked in, his father turning around with an expression mixed between surprise and fury.  _

_ "Hanzo, what are you doing here? You should not be—" the young man held up the long piece of paper up with intricate calligraphy written on it at the elders, several of them flinching, others leaning in.  _

_ "Good. You recognize what this is." Hanzo said carefully, brows furrowing as he took another step forward.  _

_ "Where did you get that?" _

_ "Tampering with magic you do not understand—the audacity!" _

_ The young lord glared daggers at the eight. "Magic I do not understand? I believe that I understand well enough that you have been dabbling in the art of capturing demons to serve under you." Hanzo tore the talisman in half, letting it flutter to the ground as it turned into dust, fading away.  _

_ "I know that you have sent demons to intercept the letters I have been sending to Genji, killing agents that my father has sent out to retrieve my brother, unleashing an  _ oni _ to Yharnam." He took a deep breath, controlling the rising anger bubbling inside of him like a raging storm. Murmurs erupted from the council, Hanzo still glaring at the elders as his father gave him a wary side glance, his posture shifting into a defensive form.  _

_ "And what proof do you have of such accusation, Hanzo?" _

_ "I will not allow this meeting to become an interrogation, especially with my son involved." Gouto stepped up. Hanzo huffed out a scoff, holding up his hand and blowing on his index finger and thumb. A high pitched whistle reverberated through the room, echoing down the hallways of the complex. There was the sound of rapid footsteps, heavy against the wooden flooring, and panting.  _

_ "You say that I know nothing of magic." Hanzo said, the footsteps becoming louder and louder, white paper screen doors shuddering and rattling against the wooden frames. Both doors opened with a gust of wind, Hanzo's raven black hair fluttering in front of him as the candles snuffed out. Beside him on both flanks were two large wolves; one white with golden ink decorating around its piercing yellow eyes, and one brown with red ink. Haku and Haru were as tall as the ceiling, their eyes flitting across the council of elders, heated mist seeping from their maw, blanketing the floor. They huffed out a snort, pupils turning into slits, focusing on the feast before them. _

_ Nobody knew of the wolves except Hanzo, Genji, and their parents—nobody knew because they simply did not allow themselves to be seen by others. Demons loyal to a woman with long black hair and gentle brown eyes.  _

_ A woman that no longer walks in the world of the living.  _

_ "Tell me: how does it feel to know that you are wrong?" _

Light footsteps still echoed in the streets, Hanzo walking down the slicked stone pathways, glancing about towards dark alleyways stuffed with boxes and chained up coffins. Some things never change. 

He was never familiar with the winding streets of Yharnam, the Hunter wandering aimlessly, looking for an obelisk that would lead to the Tomb of Oedon and, in turn, Oedon Chapel.

_ "Oedon Chapel will always open its doors for you." _

Winston's voice echoed in his mind. How is the scholar nowadays? Is Angela still working hours on end? Are Morrison and Reyes still leading the Hunter's Watch? Is McCree still wearing that gaudy hat and belt buckle?

A shot echoed in the night sky, several crows cawing and flapping away from the noise, black feathers falling down as more gunshots fired. Metal clashed against one another as Hanzo quickly made his way towards the sound, halting at the corner of a building and hiding in the shadows to see somebody fending themselves from another person wielding a crude excuse of a sword. The man was peculiar, having his face almost completely bandaged up, pitch black hair pushed back by a metal visor, a dirty olive green scarf wrapped around his neck and covering his nose and mouth, its tattered ends fluttering in the wind as he danced around the Huntsman. Another shot cracked out, the man drawing out a small blade to deflect the bullet with ease. His languish posture made it evident enough that this entire scenario is just child's play. Another shot, another twang to the blade. It was a strangely familiar sight to see, this man in bandages just blocking each bullet with ease and precision. The rifleman down the street reloaded his gun before the tattered man dashed towards him at lightning speed, the blade slicing through his neck and decapitating the Huntsman. Hanzo blinked. It almost looked as if he disappeared for a second in a small blur as he moved, reappearing in front of the deranged townsman.

Blood began to sprawl about on the cobblestone, ebbing its way through the jagged crevices. With a twirl, the man sheathed his sword on his back and turned towards the archer. Hanzo could not discern what expression the man had on his face, covered in soiled bandages, his skin around the eyes looked as if he was burnt. 

"You are not from Yharnam." The man said from a distance, his voice rough, contorted, but young. "But you've been here before, haven't you?"

Hanzo was taken aback. He hasn't step foot in the strange city in over twenty years. Who would even remember a foreigner like him? The only people that really knew him were those of the Hunter's Watch, but even then, would they recognize him now? Hanzo has grown into a fine man, black hair tied up into a high ponytail that draped down to his back by a golden ribbon—his father's—and graying at the temples. He was no longer lanky, but more well built, broad shoulders strong and arms even stronger with years of pulling back the taut bowstring made of tough material. 

"I have. But it was a long time ago." He simply said. "You yourself are not originally from here." It wasn't a question. The burnt man shrugged nonchalantly. 

"Long enough to be a citizen. But I sense that you are searching for something—or someone."

Hanzo's lips were set into a tight line, brows furrowing. He came here looking for his brother, the same brother that he abandoned, leaving him vulnerable in unknown lands. He came here to make sure his brother survived or elusively evaded the oni that was sent to hunt him. He—

"I am looking for Oedon Chapel. I know an acquaintance there."

"Oedon Chapel?" The man asked thoughtfully. "May I ask who you seek there?"

_ My brother. _

"A scholar by the name of Winston. If I recall correctly, he watched over the chapel."

"Winston..." There was a strange inflection in his tone of voice, as if he was going to tell Hanzo that there was no Winston that resided in the chapel. "How do you know him?"

"He offered refuge years back when I came here with my brother." Hanzo gritted his teeth, irritation slowly building inside him. 

"What happened to your brother?"

"Why are you interrogating me?" The archer shot the man a glare. "You insistently have been questioning me as if I have some hidden motive." Another shrug. 

"Forgive me if I seem presumptuous, but we Hunters must always be on guard here in Yharnam." He said. "But you're dodging the question. What happened to your brother?"

Hanzo let out an aggravated sigh through his nose, still glaring daggers at the man.

"I do not know."

"You don't know?" He asked incredulously. Before Hanzo could say anything, a low bellow echoed down the street. They turned to see a large lumbering figure wrapped in white with a black hat heading towards them, hunched back and huge, but also oddly thin. Its pallid face expressionless, vacantly gapping at the two with hollowed out eye sockets, sending shivers down Hanzo's spine. Despite its thin arms, the giant carried an incredibly heavy axe, droplets of blood dripping down the blade. 

The burnt man hissed out a curse. "They shouldn't be here in Central Yharnam."

"And what exactly are those?" Hanzo drew out his bow blade, clicking it into place.

"Church Giants." The man made a gesture for Hanzo to put away his weapon and follow him into the nearby alleyway. They hid in the shadows as heavy footsteps made the ground quake, watching as the giant ambled through the streets with chains and a bell tied to the center of its cape like a brooch rattled in the night air. Wooden shutters around them slammed closed in the block, the two hearing doors and windows being shut tight and tumblers rolling to lock everything down.

"They're meant to control the blood ministration on the streets; making sure that those with the scourge are taken care of." The man said quietly. "But they are usually seen in Cathedral Ward, not here in Central Yharnam. Either somebody left the gates open or—"

"Somebody deliberately sent them here."

A nod.

"It would be best that we avoid confrontation; Central Yharnam is a heavily populated section of the city. If the giant were to be provoked, it would cause damage to the buildings here."

"Would it not be wise to get it out of this district?" Hanzo whispered as the giant stopped suddenly, standing there, catatonic. Both men held their breaths, slowly backing further into the alleyway. After what seemed like an eternity, the giant moved slowly, heavy footsteps thudding against the ground with chains being dragged along the floor.

The burnt man quickly scrambled up the side of the building, hoisting himself up to the rooftops. Hanzo followed suit, looking behind him out of habit. 

"Hopefully after it makes its rounds, it'll go back to Cathedral Ward." The man sighed, tugging on his scarf. "Anyways, Oedon Chapel is that way. I suggest taking the high route to avoid the Huntsmen and Giants." He pointed a finger—that Hanzo noted was also covered in bandages—towards a towering obelisk in the middle of a familiar graveyard.

"You are not are going there yourself?"

"No." Hanzo turned towards the man. He merely shrugged, a casual demeanor to his stance. "Somebody has to keep the streets safe."

"What of the Hunter's Watch?"

Brown eyes widened before narrowing. 

"I would be careful saying that name around here. The Church is always listening." He said darkly. "You should get going before the Huntsmen start their rounds." With that, the man jumped down into the dark streets below, disappearing through the steam billowing up from manholes scattered about. Hanzo looked up towards the sky to see the moon hanging above high in the sky, the stars hidden behind ominous clouds. 

It's going to be a long night.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay—we're completely updated with what I have so far (as of 11/02/2016). I know there's A LOT of spotty parts in the fic but those are actually kind of intentional. Most of the plot-holes will be explained later on. 
> 
> I don't have any set schedule in uploading newer chapters, but keep an eye out if you're still interested.
> 
> Again, thanks so much for reading and kudos are always appreciated with love. o/

"What's the word around these parts?" The Hunter asked, arms crossed and leaning back on the stone pillar, eyes peering beneath the brim of his worn hat, the edges tattered and tapered to a jagged feathered touch. Golden eyes flickered over towards the man, large black hairs coming forth to adjust the small spectacles sitting on his snout. 

"Church Giants have been reported making rounds in Central Yharnam. How they got there, we don't know, but Lena is already tracking down a few to make sure they get back to the Grand Cathedral." The large gorilla huffed, tugging the white cloak around him more as several townsfolk ambled by. Modesty and respect to those that aren't used to seeing an intelligent gorilla talking to a Hunter. Some mothers were hushing their children to calm down while the elderly sat quietly in the alcoves, silently praying for safety. "I've sent word for Angela and Reinhardt, but no word yet of their status." The Hunter let out a hum. 

"Angela's probably got her hands wrapped up with her own problems at the clinic, and who knows where the big guy went. Executioners aren't exactly that common around these parts." He murmured. "But if Lena is the only one out there keeping an eye out on the Church Giants, I might as well give a hand. You got Athena, after all, watching over this place with ya."

He looked up towards the large incense holder held aloft high above in the ceiling by numerous chains covered with rich velvet fabric draped about, a feminine figure sitting diligently on a terrace above, looking down at the refugees with a blank expression. 

"That is true, but I think it would be best that we don't send that many Hunters out, McCree. If the Church finds out that those from the Hunter's Watch are roaming about—"

McCree let out a huff. "Yeah. Right. The Hunter's Watch is dead. Burnt to the ground. I don't think the Church is that worried about a few vagabonds wandering around town." How many are left after the fire? The Hunter began counting in his head. 

Lena Oxton, the fastest Hunter he has ever laid eyes upon, was out and about helping the people as best as she could, bless her heart. 

Winston—not Harold—is the new keeper and de facto leader of the newly revived Hunter's Watch...or whatever he wants to call it.

Angela Ziegler's affiliation towards the small faction waned over the years, secluding herself in her clinic at the edge of Central Yharnam with tall gate protecting her and those she takes in.

Reinhardt Wilhelm disappeared after being forced to retire from the Hunter's Watch, closing his pub and taking Bridgette along with him. 

Torbjorn Lindholm left the city after the base was burnt to the ground. 

Gerard Lacroix was killed by his wife, Amélie, in his sleep. She went missing right after the incident. 

Liao also went missing, but it was before the fire. 

Genji left a year or so after Liao went MIA, saying something about how he didn't want others to be in harm's way of whatever was chasing him.

Ana was deemed KIA a few years back. McCree never asked for the details but remembers mourning for her when he heard the news. He never saw Fareeha after that either.

And Morrison and Reyes—

The doors towards the abandoned studies creaked open, both turning towards it to see a man with fairly long black hair tied into a ponytail with a golden ribbon flowing behind him. His clothes were strange in fashion, dark navy sleeveless overcoat on top of what looked like some kind of light robe with a faded orange sash tied around his waist over a vest and dress shirt. The ends of the coat were frayed and riddled with water stains and mud. Yet despite the somewhat ragged look, the man had a regal air to him, sharp eyes looking up at the two.

Something about him was familiar to McCree, but he couldn't put his finger on it. The man regarded him fairly longer than the gorilla next to him, brows furrowing. Winston cleared his throat.

"Um. Hello there."

"Greetings." He said quietly with a slight nod towards the hooded gorilla.

"I, uh, take it that you're not from here." Winston said. Another nod. "But not a lot of people know about the entrance you just came from."

McCree crossed his arms. Only few knew of the pathway from Oedon's Tomb to the Chapel—most of them being from the Hunter's Watch or have close affiliations with the order. But this man—he was never part of the Watch. 

"I have been here before in my travels many years ago." The man said before raising a brow towards McCree. 

"What?"

"You're still wearing that ridiculous hat."

And as if like clockwork, everything clicked into place. The familiar facial structure, the lilt accent, the clothes, the scent, and of course the goddamn silver curved blade strapped to his back. McCree pushed the brim of his hat up a bit. 

"Well I'll be damned. Didn't think you'd come back to little ol' Yharnam, Hanzo."

The corner of Hanzo's mouth twitched upwards by a margin. "Cleaned up pretty well since the last time we've met. How long has it been? Like twenty years?"

"Twenty-two." Hanzo corrected him before waving a hand dismissively. "But enough of that. I have questions, and you are going to answer me."

"Alright. Shoot."

"In private." The foreign Hunter canted his head towards the studies. McCree blinked before following Hanzo into the small warm room filled with a plethora of books and tomes of an assortment of knowledge on beasts and the city of Yharnam itself. Hanzo took a seat at one side of the table while McCree took the other, swinging his legs up with a loud clack. Almond brown eyes glared at him before letting out an exasperated sigh through his nose. 

"I am looking for Genji."

"Straight to the point, as usual." McCree leaned back in the chair, tipping it slightly but balancing himself so he won't make a fool out of himself. Hopefully. It didn't surprise the Hunter at all that Hanzo is looking for his brother. Reasonably so; twenty-two years of waiting warrants a bit of worry. Especially when it comes to family. "Now, uh, you want the short version or the long one?"

"If my theory is true, then I do not have much time to waste."

"Oh boy. Okay." McCree swung his feet off the table and let the chair set back to place on all four legs, leaning forward. "Well, truthfully, I don't know where he is."

"You don't know." Hanzo gave him an incredulous look. 

"Lotta thing can happen in the span of twenty-two years, darling." Ah, right. Hanzo doesn't like the nicknames he uses often in his speech. Oh well. "Last I saw him was about...ten years ago? Said he had to leave the Watch because something was chasing him; didn't want people to get hurt. So he left."

Hanzo was quiet for a moment, looking down at the table, the wooden texture and grooves seemingly interesting to him—or at least trying to get his mind off something. "And you did not stop him? Did not even question what was chasing him?"

"Of course I asked where the heck he was going. Genji was my friend." McCree glared at him accusingly. "He told me not to worry and that it was personal stuff. I tried telling him that the Watch had his back but he kept pushing us away."

"Did he...ever tell you what was chasing him?"

McCree paused. He and Genji became friends fast, there was no doubt about that; almost as soon as the young Hunter from the East came to Yharnam and met him, they clicked instantaneously. 'A rambunctious duo,' the older members called them; McCree with his sharpshooting and Genji with his swordsmanship—they always had each other's back on the field. Always. 

"Said it was an  _ 'oni _ ' or ' _ yokai. _ ' Some fancy word you guys use back in yer homelands."

He watched Hanzo freeze, closing his eyes in consideration. Hands were clasped together in front of his lips before lowering his forehead to them, brows knotted with worry. The whole sight looking as if the man was praying.

"I got a question fer you, Hanzo." McCree settled an arm on the table. "Why did it take you twenty-two years to finally come here to look for your brother? If it were me, I'd be running here after at least a year." Hanzo glared at the man—those familiar eyes sharp like daggers.

"I have my reasons."

"Yeah. Well. They don't sound very reasonable."

"You do not know what I have been through these past years." Hanzo snapped, irritated. "Where is Morrison so I can speak to a more qualified and respectable Hunter?"

It was McCree's turn to freeze up and become silent, looking to the side and slouching in his seat. 

"Gone." He said quietly. "Was caught in the fire that destroyed the Watch."

McCree closed his eyes. He knew something was wrong in the final years of the Hunter's Watch; too many recruits under both Morrison and Reyes's group were getting out of hand. There were accusations from the community that the Hunters were just killing for sport now—for fun—rather than protect the city from the beasts as they were meant to do. He remembered how Morrison tried to quell an angry mob in front of the Grand Cathedral, seeing him being pelted by pebbles and dirt—even an assailant tried stabbing him during a speech. They were deemed heroes for keeping the peace in Yharnam after the outbreak—but then they were suddenly the villain. And the Healing Church did absolutely nothing—just watched everything unfold itself.

But what was worse was Reyes. He changed—and it scared Jesse. It was as if he was another person—if human at all. 

"My condolences on your loss." Hanzo voice was barely above a whisper, his hands folding into his lap, head tilted down. 

"Yeah. Well. Shit happens." McCree shrugged lamely, straightening himself out in his seat and standing up, stretching. There was an ungodly popping sound from his back as his bones realigned themselves. The Eastern Hunter grimaced at the noise, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "But cutting to the chase: you're looking for Genji."

"Yes."

"And I'm willing to help."

"That," Hanzo was taken aback. "Is unnecessary of you to do so."

"Look." McCree sighed. "I get it. He's your brother, so it's personal. But Genji's my friend—my best friend—and I ain't gonna sit around while he's playing cat and mouse with this ' _ oni _ ' or ' _ yokai _ ' or whatever. 'Sides, from what I know, snipers always work better in pairs."

"With other snipers." The archer retorted.

"Offer still stands. It's a win-win in my books either way."

There was a moment of silence between them, McCree cracking his knuckles nonchalantly, waiting for the verdict. If Hanzo wants to go alone, that's fine; it won't stop McCree from looking for Genji himself. He has been doing so for the past few years anyways, yet always seems to get tangled up with more Healing Church problems by the day.

First was the bad wind in the Hunter's Watch, then the fire that consumed headquarters, and now the goddamn Church Giants are off course in their patrol routes and causing panic to ensue in the streets of Central Yharnam. 

"Very well." Hanzo finally said with a nod, standing up from his seat. "I will allow you to accompany me in finding my brother."

"Alright."

"But if I even have a sneaking suspicion that you are purposely throwing me off track, you will find yourself bleeding from the throat." Hanzo snarled. McCree held up both hands defensively. 

"Okay, I get it. Ya don't trust me. Makes sense." Didn't trust him back then, doesn't have any reasons to trust him now. In all honesty, McCree would probably have acted the same way if he was in Hanzo's position. "So how're you gonna track him down? Brotherly instincts?"

With a roll of his shoulder and pulling up his left sleeve, McCree's brows shot up in awe to see a beautifully detailed tattoo of what appeared to be some kind of reptilian beast coiled around his arm, wrapped in storm clouds and jagged lightning.

"The dragons will sense when one another is nearby."

"Dragons?" McCree looked up from the tattoo, the archer lowering his sleeve to cover it up once more. A nod. 

"The Shimada clan are blessed by the dragons that once ruled the land of our people, protecting it as guardians in the distant past. Now, the dragons are spirits that forged a bond with those of the Shimada bloodline, gifting their powers at birth."

McCree blinked. "Wait. Hold up. You're telling that you have a dragon spirit with you?"

"Two, to be exact."

"You have two dragon spirits with ya."

"Yes." Hanzo rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh, eyeing the rugged Hunter. "Will this be a problem?"

"No. No problem at all." How can this man be so calm about having two dragons basically living inside him? "So, uh, they gonna appear any time soon?"

"I cannot simply tell them to appear as I wish; even as spirits, they are dragons at heart, and do not take kindly to commands." The man explained. "They are prideful hunters themselves, powerful, elegant, but their own rulers."

A chuckle escaped from McCree's lips, tugging his hat down slightly, as if it would hide the smile on his face. Hanzo gave him a confused, but wary, expression. "It's just that—you're really poetic with yer words, y'know?" Nothing like Genji. The archer merely rolled his eyes with a scoff, pushing pass the Hunter and heading for the door.

Yeah. Definitely nothing like Genji.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oops.

“So, what an  _ oni _ ?" McCree asked as they walked outside the chapel, footsteps echoing against the slicked ground. 

"The word translate into 'demon' in our language. They are large monstrosities with red or blue skin—sometimes green—with horns and carry a large metallic spiked club." Hanzo spoke clearly, eyeing a large raven sitting by the end of a large staircase heading up Cathedral Ward. It trilled softly, white eyes staring at him in return, beak dripping with some viscous liquid.

"Sounds like a handful." McCree said. "Oh yeah, watch out for the birds. Get to close and they'll try to peck you to death." Hanzo sidestepped further away from the avian.

"The  _ oni _ can be quite a handful as you say, but they are not all that intelligent enough to see through deceit." The man said, a hand brushing through his long ponytail off his shoulder. "Powerful and robust, but dumb enough to get themselves tangled into traps."

"Sounds like you've hunted your fair shares of  _ oni _ s then, huh?" McCree asked.

"Occasionally." He said briefly, hoping that the man did not catch how it sounded as if he had more to say. The two brothers used to hunt nearby oni and yokai that came too close to the village, finding the thrill and adrenaline invigorating to finally get out of the castle walls. They would hold small competitions against each other, keeping a tally of how many demons they have slain. From what Hanzo remembers, it is currently a tie.

"Fuck me in the ass."

Hanzo snapped out of his thoughts, giving McCree a look at the vulgar words he just said. The man next to him drew out his revolver clicking back the hammer and fired up the stairs, smoke curling out of the muzzle into the night air. A figure wearing a dark grey trench coat and hat went toppling down towards them, the sound of bone cracking against each stair made Hanzo wince and seeing a streak of blood. McCree stopped the corpse with his foot, brows furrowing. The archer caught a glimpse of the face to see it white as snow with large black empty eye sockets staring at him with an agape mouth.

"Church servants. Or Church 'doctors' if you even want to call them that." The Hunter said with a hint of malice in each word. 

"And yet you shot him?" Hanzo couldn't rip his gaze from the empty face, the endless void in its eyes seeming to draw him in. 

"Doesn't matter. They'll attack anybody that's not another servant or giant—goddamn Healing Church and their experiments." He kicked the carcass away, having it tumble down to the end of the stairs, the crow inching forward towards in and pecking into its face. 

"Are you not affiliated with the Healing Church any longer?" Hanzo asked, genuinely curious. 

"Don't you remember me saying that the Hunter's Watch was burnt to the ground?" McCree said quietly, letting out another string of colorful profanities as they reached the top to find the gates leading towards the cathedral closed. He kicked the metal, the sound reverberating. A breath escaped from him before motioning Hanzo to follow him back to the chapel. 

"I vaguely recall, yes."

"Well. Yeah. Pretty self explanatory." The Hunter muttered something under his breath that the archer could not decipher. "Anyways, we're going to have to go around and pray that the other gate is open."

"Why are we heading for the Grand Cathedral in the first place?"

"Believe it or not, Genji spent quite a bit of time in Cathedral Ward; went to the big ol' cathedral up the hill pretty often. Not sure why." McCree rubbed his nape. "Probably flirting with the ladies there or something."

"That does sound like Genji." Hanzo said blandly. His brother, even at a young age, went into the village often to 'chat' with the boys and girls around his age, staying out late and resulting the castle guards or Hanzo himself to look for him. Father always did coddle him—letting him live his life so freely juxtaposed to Hanzo's more confined lifestyle. Work, train, study, watch your manners—it was tiring. Too much expectations—too much pressure. 

The two made their way back to the chapel, earning a raised brow from Winston under his cloak, adjusting his glasses. McCree gave him a languid wave while Hanzo kept mulling over the past, following the Hunter's tattered coat tail, the bandolier of bullets jingling as he walked. They walked towards the left exit of the building into an open circular area—a familiar route they took over twenty years ago to get into Old Yharnam. McCree held up a hand, Hanzo stopping as another Church Servant was patrolling outside, a cane and purple lantern in hand. 

"I don't like this. Too many Church Servants are out tonight." McCree clicked his tongue. 

"Is this uncommon?"

"You can say that." The gunslinger drew out his revolver, shooting the servant in the head, its body toppling over; the wooden cane clattering down with the lantern. Hanzo didn't notice until they walked up closer that the lantern was covered with eyeballs emitting a lavender glow, the pupils staring at him. One of them blinked before glancing over towards the small steps leading up to a slope, another servant coming down. He clicked his trick weapon into its bow form, drawing an arrow and letting it loose towards the church servant. Blood splattered onto the cobblestone floor as the arrow pierced through the servant's neck, a guttural sound escaping from its mouth, choking and uselessly trying to pry it out. 

McCree let out a low whistle, pushing up his hat with a thumb. He was about to praise the archer for his sharpshooting but stopped midway, lax expression fading quickly before rushing towards a bloodied corpse near the iron fence.

As he ran over, Hanzo heard something shift. 

He looked around, bow-blade at the ready, only to see a large bony hand reaching towards McCree, a black vortex spinning in its palm. 

With a quick knock of his bow, Hanzo drew  his arrow and shot towards McCree, the other Hunter perking up at the sound with wide eyes, unable to react fast enough as he was sent flying and pinned to a small stone pillar by his coat collar. 

"What the hell was that for—" He stopped mid-sentence, seeing Hanzo stare at a black vacuum appearing above the corpse, the carcass being lifted up and dangling in the air, only to be crushed by an invisible force. Bones snapped and blood seeped out of the body's orifices, dribbling down the sickly colored skin. The body soon began to contort itself, as if it was crumpling onto itself, becoming a ball of mangled bones and flesh. 

And then it was gone. 

Hanzo and McCree stared in horror, the latter looking at the archer as he was transfixed at the rooftop of the chapel. 

Above them was a large monster with multiple yellow-red eyes jutting out of several holes, spiny tendrils weaving to and fro from its peculiar almond shaped cage of a head as elongated limbs had the monstrosity perched against the chapel. It stared back at the archer but made no other movement aside from breathing.

He sidestepped over towards McCree, keeping an eye on the monster as it followed him. The corpse of the Church Servant was nearby, Hanzo changing his bow back into a blade and cutting off its arm. 

"What are you doing?" McCree looked genuinely concerned. Hanzo held the arm and gave it a light toss in the air, as if he was weighing it before chucking it towards where the corpse used to sit. It flopped to the ground, the gunslinger giving him a wary glance, lips moving to speak but stopped as the anomaly appeared again, sucking up the limb and crushing it into a bloody pulp. "What the fuck was that?"

"That creature seems to only react if something moves within that area." Hanzo pointedly looked at the fence where the body of a fallen Hunter sat, glancing up at the strange monster.

"Creature? I don't see anything."

"What?"

"All I saw was some black hole? Thing?" He waved his hands around as if it would depict his description on what he saw. 

"You do not see that?" Hanzo exclaimed, gesturing towards the creature that passively stared at them, unmoving. "It is literally a large beast with dozens of eyeballs staring right at us!"

"I'm telling ya, I don't see shit! All I see is the goddamned rooftop!"

An exasperated groan came out of Hanzo as he rubbed his temple, brows furrowing in irritation. To their surprise, Winston came ambling towards the threshold, coughing into his fist to grab their attention. 

"Is something the matter? I heard yelling."

"Hanzo says there's some kind of monster on top of the chapel." McCree gestured towards said roof, giving the gorilla a 'back me up' look. Winston raised a brow, tilting his head back to look up. 

"I don't see anything." He gives Hanzo a sympathetic look, adjusting his glasses. "Perhaps your travels have made you exhausted."

Hanzo shook his head in disbelief, glancing up at the thing. It blinked at him in return. With a roll of his eyes, the archer let out a loud exasperated sigh. 

"Forget it."

"Amygdala."

The three turned towards the archway leading into the chapel to see the woman that sat above on the balcony staring at them passively. Everything about her was just...white—white hair; pale skin; a white robe. The only thing that stood out were her bright blue eyes. 

"Athena?" Winston raised a brow. 

"What Shimada Hanzo is referring to is called an Amygdala." She said carefully, voice calm and calculated. "They are creatures known as the Great Ones and are often invisible to the naked eye."

"A Great One? Those are just stories made up throughout time. There are no scientific or biological evidence of such thing within the compendium of Yharnam."

The woman said nothing, only staring at Hanzo before looking up above the threshold. Then she turned back into the chapel, heels clicking against the ground. 

"First he says he has dragons, now he can see invisible monsters. Great." McCree threw his hands up, walking uphill as Winston gave Hanzo a small smile before heading back inside. The man bowed, catching up with the Hunter. 

"You think I am not of mind."

"If that's your way of saying crazy. Then yeah. Sure. Let's go with that." McCree muttered. "A goddamn Amygdala."

"You know of it."

"Heard of ‘em. Ne’er seen one before." McCree sighed, taking out a cigar from his jacket and flicking his lighter. Hanzo sniffed disdainfully at the scent as the man blew out a string of smoke. "Jack taught me about Yharnam history and all its weird shit. Amygdalas are...well. Nobody really knows why they exist. They're just kind of—there."

"What do you think of them—these Amygdalas." The archer pointed with his chin towards the creature, its tendrils flexing fluidly and passively looking at the two from above. 

"Can't really say since I've never seen one before, but Gabe—Reyes—he told me that there are dark things hidden in Yharnam. Some things that are better left forgotten." He sucked in a breath, billowing out the smoke from the cigar and looked up. "Hold up." Hanzo stopped next to the man, the two standing still in silence. Then, in the distance, he heard something.

A baby. Crying. 

"There is—" McCree hushed him sharply, raising a hand, his other reaching for his revolver strapped to his side.

"Church Giant. About 25 meters away." His brows furrowed. Hanzo strained his ears, the echoes of the babe's cries tapered off into the night, only to be replaced by the sound of heavy footfall and chains rattling closer and closer. A Church Giant came ambling by, very similar in appearance to the one Hanzo saw earlier with the burnt man. Passing through the gate threshold leading uphill, it stopped midway, the bell tied to its cloak letting out a small ring, and turned towards the two. Both Hanzo and McCree instinctively held their breaths, as if any movement or sound—any indication of existing—would be their demise. In the back of his head, Hanzo wondered if the giant could really be fooled by not moving as he did with the burnt man in the dark alleyway in Central Yharnam. Apparently not as it started walking towards them slowly, empty hollowed out eyes staring at them, its grip on the giant axe tightening, lifting it above its head and slamming down with a deafening crunch to the ground. McCree rolled away while Hanzo jumped to the side, the brown haired Hunter taking out his contracted saif from behind. He used momentum to move quickly around the giant, slashing at its legs to draw its attention. The giant turned towards him, looking over its shoulder. Hanzo saw it grip its axe again, drawing his bow and aiming it preemptively upwards where it would do another overhead swing down, but instead saw it doing a wide side swing towards McCree. He tried jumping back, only to find himself being pressed against a wall, the axe making contact with it as blood splattered against the grey stone, headless body slumping down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HA. Since when was there a Souls game that was just randy-dandy???
> 
> Sorry I haven't updated in a while—I recently got a job that has been taking up a lot of my time.
> 
> That and I kinda sorta don't have a definite outline for the story—I just kind of wing it and hope for the best
> 
> And yes, Hanzo has HIGH Insight (because he's a dork)—I'll explain that later on
> 
> Thank you so much to the people that are still interested in reading this mess, as well as the kind people leaving comments and kudos! Much love to you guys!


	11. Chapter 11

The Hunter woke up with a startling gasp, shooting up and looking around with wild eyes, frantic and confused. He was killed—dead—his head was lopped off by that Church Giant because he was careless and Hanzo—

Hanzo.

McCree stood up, nearly falling back down from the sudden vertigo and looked up in disbelief at what laid before him.

The Hunter's Watch stood proud and tall on the slope, stone steps leading up to the familiar double wooden doors that he has walk through time and time again. He shook his head; this is impossible. McCree knows for sure that the building was burnt to the ground, the charred foundation pitch black with dead wooden beams broken and scattered about the dried lilies.  He knows because he ran to the Hunter's Watch after hearing the explosion going off near Oedon's Chapel, pushing his way through the chapel regulars that visited Harold Winston for blessings and safe keeping. The tower to Upper Cathedral Ward shook, cobblestone giving way and crumbling down into the abyss as he jumped down to the entrance to his home, bursting through the hot door to see everything in flames.

Twice he has lost his home to fire. The burning red, orange, and yellow heat consuming all the memories he made with his families. Both the good and the bad—all of it just gone.

McCree walked towards the doors, placing a hand on the surface before giving a push, opening it up to the familiar sight of the foyer. It looked just like how it used to be; the plush couch in front of the fireplace that had replicas of various weapons hanging from above, several bookcases that reached up towards the ceiling, a china display case showing a plethora of tea sets that Ana kept as a collection. Footsteps echoed against the polished wooden floor, muting themselves by the ornate carpet as McCree walk up to one of the shelves, reaching towards a number of framed photographs. Strangely enough, they were empty. Raising a brow, McCree flipped the frame over and unhooked the cover to find a blank photo paper inside. Weird.

He put it back on the shelf and looked around, noticing a figure sitting in a rocking chair in front of a window. Tiptoeing closer, the Hunter was surprised to find a life-size ball-jointed doll; the porcelain skin was a warm mocha, nine blue dots painted on its forehead; nine golden orbs sat around the doll in a circle, worn golden and red cloth hung over the armrests and draping to the floor. McCree doesn't remember there being a life-sized doll in the Hunter's Watch.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

The Hunter's brows scrunched together.

_Tap. Tap._

He looked down at the jointed hands, eyes widening.

_Tap. Tap._

The doll's index finger tapping against its other hand folded beneath in a steady rhythm, like a metronome. Silver eyes blinked at the Hunter, causing McCree to stumble backwards.

Holy shit this thing is alive.

"Ahaha. My apologies. I did not mean to frighten you. It has been some time since one has entered the Hunter's Dream." The doll smiled kindly at McCree. "You have questions."

McCree let out a dismissive chuckle. "Damn right I do. What the hell is going on? Where am I? Why does this look exactly like the Hunter's Watch?"

The doll held up a hand, face still calm and kind. "You are here in the Hunter's Dream, a place that exists between planes where Hunters may find refuge for a spell during the Hunt. As to why it resembles the Hunter's Watch, I cannot say, for I do not know why. Perhaps the owner may tell. Unfortunately, he is away for the moment."

"I don't get it. A place between planes? I've been through a hell of a lot of Hunts—why is it only now that get dragged here after having my head chopped off? Shouldn't I be dead?"

The man let out a contemplative hum, golden orbs that laid on the carpet around him hovered up towards his shoulders, orbiting around, glowing. With a fluid flick of his wrist, an orb floated towards McCree, waiting in front of him. He looked up at the doll skeptically. What is he supposed to do with this? All he received was a nod in return from the automaton. McCree reached out towards the ball with both hands, cupping the metallic object and bringing it close to his chest.

It is strangely warm, radiating a comforting yellow light.

"Good Hunter, this Hunt is not like the others. Something has broken the veil between dreams and reality—creating a nightmare through ritual. Hunters who have passed do not truly die—they are either woken up in the Waking World or sent here to the Hunter's Dream." The doll said somberly, McCree rotating the orb carefully in his hands. "I am afraid I cannot help you much further. The only advice I can give is that you must transcend the Hunt."

McCree's lips pursed together into a thin line, trying to piece everything together. "Let me get this straight. The Hunter's Dream is...like a world between reality and unreality? It exists because of this Hunt?"

A nod. "It is real but separate from the Waking World."

"And this Hunt is a nightmare caused by some ritual?"

Another nod.

"So when people die during this Hunt, they don't actually, well, die; they wake up in the real world or end up here."

"That is correct."

McCree stopped rolling the orb in his palms, brows furrowed. "What doesn't add up is why does this place exists in the first place? It doesn't make a lick of sense. And this ritual you mentioned—somebody caused it to create this nightmare Hunt. But for what reason? I feel like the more I try to understand this whole thing, the more questions seem to pop up like daisies."

"By transcending the Hunt, you may be able to seek out the answers you long for." The doll said before becoming quiet. "Tell me, Good Hunter, what do you think is the source of these Hunts?" McCree gave him a bewildered look.

"The beasts roamin' around Yharnam, ain't it?"

"But what of the beast’s origins?"

The Hunter felt a chill under his skin, feeling goosebumps prickling underneath his sleeves.

Fire rapidly spreading across Old Yharnam; townsfolk screaming for their loved ones and out of fear; buildings toppling down and crushing people under the rubble; the roars of beasts bouncing off the walls.

"Something in the blood." McCree said. "And it ain't pretty."

"You share this blood, do you not?"

McCree snapped his head up at the doll, the orb in his hands turning into a deep violet color, darkening to an inky black at its core. A low growl escaped the Hunter's lips, the doll looking down at its hands in its lap.

"The Old Blood sings within you—ever since you were a child. But the beast inside is quiet. I am impressed that you have such control over it."

The Hunter looked down at the orb, gold melding into black, the hint of purple licking around the metallic surface.

"Despite your control, you have yet to accept yourself for who you are."

"I didn't ask for this." McCree spat. "I never asked to have a goddamn syringe being stabbed into me as a kid. I didn't have a say in any of the shit Deadlock did to me; being sold to a band of criminals because my ma couldn't afford a cigarette for herself."

McCree laughed away the lump in his throat at the memories of seeing his disheveled mother leading him towards a group of men and women in an alleyway. The streets of the small desert town were empty, dust picking up and dancing across the barren landscape. He couldn't understand what they were saying, hiding behind his mother while gripping tightly onto her stained beige dress. A large calloused hand reached out and grabbed McCree by the arm, dragging him away from his mother as she received a hefty bag of coins in exchange. What he will never forget was the greed on her face, not even batting an eye towards her son being taken away to the unknown.

Deadlock. The man that took him away was named Deadlock. For the longest time, McCree thought the man was his real father, hearing the hushed scratchy whispers of the gang members talking about how they found one of their leader's whores. But after a while, it didn't really matter to McCree anymore.

All he was taught was to aim and shoot; the best goddamn shot in all of Deadlock.

Then the rumors of Paleblood caught Deadlock's interest. Everybody wanted their hands on the legendary Paleblood—a mysterious serum that could cure any kind of ailment; physical or not. How the rumor started, nobody knew—but it drew all sorts of people to the strange dreary city of Yharnam. Foreigners from all sides and corners of the world would enter the city in awe, dazzled by the morbid architecture and strange culture of Yharnamites.

_"Alright. Here's the plan."_ Tattered parchment unfurled on the old wooden table, the candlelight wavering back and forth in the dim house. Deadlock's stubby finger stabbed the map before the group, the semi-dried ink smudging against the surface. _"We need to do some scouting. Get the lay of the land and figure out where they keep all the blood. Hector and Dominique; head over to this area."_ He pressed his finger on a section of the map labeled 'Central Yharnam.' The two said members nodded with a chuckle, shouldering each other before walking off and away from the group.

_"Al and Mikey head over here."_ Cathedral Ward. _"And Jesse."_

The youngest member looked up at Deadlock. _"You'll be heading here."_ Jesse looked at the map, pushing his way past some members to get a good look. Upper Cathedral Ward. The child pursed his lips, brows furrowing.

_"By myself?"_

The gang leader gave the boy a deadpan glance, making him shrink back and hearing the others around him chuckle and coo teasingly at him. After the briefing, Jesse followed Al and Mikey towards Cathedral Ward, kicking a pebble along the way and seeing how far it can get from their hideout.

_"Something doesn't feel right in this city."_

_"Whaddya mean?"_

_"I dunno."_ Mikey glanced over his shoulders, hunching forward and gripping onto his jacket a little closer. _“Feels like something is always watching us. Even the people have this weird...air to them.”_

The man made gestures while talking, Jesse noticing that several loitering townsfolk were murmuring to each other, occasionally throwing them glances, speaking in further hushed tones. He could barely hear what they were saying, catching up with Al and Mikey to their destination.

_“You think Deadlock wants to set up a base here?”_

_“I mean, we’re here already.”_

_“You know what I mean!”_ Al rolled his eyes. _“I’m talking about setting up a place for, uh, operations. Think about it: if we get our hands on this Paleblood thing, we can be set for life here in this city.”_

_“But why stay in this city when we can go wherever the hell we want once we get enough dough?”_

Jesse toned the two out with their banal banter, walking ahead of the men and seeing a large facade of an obelisk towering above several scattered tombstones, several townspeople huddled around the graves of supposed loves ones or people they were once close to. Friends, family—it all sounded nice to the young boy. Sure, there were some friendly people within Deadlock that treated him as an equal while keeping in mind that he is still a child, but it just did not feel the same as it would with real friends or family. Whatever that means.

_“Hey, kid; over here.”_ Jesse turned to see a man beckoning for him to come over. He walked gingerly towards the disheveled man, a strange large black top hat sitting askew on his head, silver hair sticking out here and there, matted and dirtied. As Jesse walked closer to the man, he noticed that his eyes were covered by unclean bandages, darkening where his eyes would be underneath with a red tinge. He kept his distance from the man, both hands firm against his sides, a quick move and he can draw out his pistol if needed. If there’s anything Jesse has learned, it’s that you can’t trust anybody—especially a haggard man that is calling out to him.

_“What d’you want? I ain’t got no coins, if that’s what yer looking for.”_ He said with a glare, putting his weight on one leg. The man let out a coarse chuckle.

_“Nah. Don't need any coin; just humor an old man, will ya?”_ Jesse stood his ground, arms crossing. _“Here, I got something for you.”_

_“Been raised to never take things from strangers.”_ The boy said promptly, glaring daggers as the disheveled man.

_“Heh. You've been taught well. But you'll need this.”_ He held a smooth rounded stone palm-up in his hand, leathery fingers rotating it to show a black symbol etched onto its surface. McCree raised a brow, curious, and stepped forward to get a closer look. The symbol looked like a swirling vortex with claw-like tentacles sprouting from the lines. _“Go on, take it.”_

McCree grimaced, inching back. He doesn’t trust this man; not one bit. Something about him was off, an air of uncertainty not only by appearance, but his entire being. It just screamed danger—but it also piqued the child’s curiosity. Jesse mentally chided himself.

_You’re not a kid, Jesse, you’re Deadlock now. Forget this guy and just do your job._

_“No thanks. I should really get going.”_

To Jesse’s surprise, the man merely smiled and nodded, putting the stone back into his jacket pocket. Several voices calling out to the boy caught his attention, Jesse looking over his shoulder to see Mikey and Al waiting for him at the top of the steps, the latter standing akimbo, tapping a foot impatiently.

_“Do stay safe, Jesse McCree. And remember: fear the Old Blood.”_

Jesse halted and spun around, only to find himself staring at nothing but the stone bench littered with broken brown and orange leaves.

///

“That man you met,” the doll spoke up quietly; calmly. “I believe I know who he was.” He didn’t even notice that they were outside once more.

“Enlighten me.” McCree drawled. “Because I sure as hell didn't know who he was.”

“The Runesmith; a scholar that whence came from the school of Byrgenwerth. It has been said that they understood a language no other human can decipher, some peers saying that the gods have called upon them as a messenger of sorts. They  created runes with the language that allow others to have the words of the gods etched within their minds.”

“So you're saying that some scholar dressed like a hobo was trying to get me to read a rune?” McCree asked incredulously. “A rune that supposedly has the language of ‘the gods?’ Well, ain’t that a hoot.”

“Nothing in this world is without purpose.” The doll said, folding both jointed hands onto his lap. “But I believe that is enough talk for now.”

“And how exactly am I supposed to get back? I mean, I’m kind of in a different dimension and I don’t even know how I ended up here.” McCree gestured towards his surroundings, an arm sweeping at the grey scenery and floating thing vertical slabs of stone in the distance above and through the chromatic clouds that stretched into oblivion. The white lilies around him shifted, shuffling against each other as the doll let out a soft contemplative hum, the golden orbs floating up and orbiting around him, a few would jump up while moving, bouncing back down with a tiny ring.

“The Messengers shall help you.” He said factually, gesturing towards the ground where grey ichor began to bubble between the crevices of the cobblestone pathway, several disfigured heads popping up with white eyes and gaping mouths with small teeth turned towards McCree. The Hunter must have visibly recoiled at the strange anomaly before him, taking a surprised step back as the doll let out a tinny laughter. “They will not harm you. The Messengers’ only purpose within the Dream and the Hunt is to help the Hunters; whether it be leaving notes to warn or guide other Hunters, or helping you move to and fro from the Nightmare and the Hunter’s Dream. In time, I think you will grow to like them, as many Hunters have before you.”  McCree glanced apprehensively at the three Messengers looking at him. Their pallid and wrinkled skin made them look like some kind of corpse with how skinny they were; their bones and joints visible as they reached small hands towards McCree in a childlike manner—the universal sign of ‘pick me up.’ They let out an elated groan as he gingerly stepped towards the small group, kneeling down in front of them. The Messenger in front of the group reach behind him and into the bubbling grey ichor to produce a bundle of cloth wrapped in twine to the Hunter.

“Well, thank ya kind—” McCree froze as he unwrapped the gift, a familiar revolver shining through the dark cloth and twine sparkled under the silver moonlight.

_“One day, you’ll be able to use this, mijo.”_

_“Why not now?”_

_“She’s special, but I think you knew that already. I’ll keep her safe for you to use when you’re older and when the time is right.”_

The Hunter ran a gloved hand against the silver barrel of the revolver, admiring the elaborate and ornate etchings on its surface, gold plating decorating it in several places subtly without making it look too gaudy. McCree looked at the Messengers, the three staring at him expectantly with hands clasped together. He let out a smile and tipped his hat to them.

“Thank ya kindly. Really, I appreciate it.” He said, receiving another round of happy sounds from the tiny anomalies, two of them clapping their hands together repeatedly.

“Whenever you are ready, the Messengers will help you travel back to the Hunt.” The doll nodded towards the Hunter. “Again, should you need to rest or replenish your supplies, the Hunter’s Dream is always open to you; merely look for the lanterns accompanied by the Messengers and they will guide you back here.”

McCree nodded. “I don’t know what’s going on with this Hunt--but justice ain’t gonna dispense itself. It was nice talking to you...uh…”

“You may call me Zenyatta.” The doll smiled.

“Zenyatta.” McCree echoed, smiling back. “Name’s McCree. Jesse McCree. But I think you knew that already.”

“Farewell Good Hunter. May you find your worth in the Waking World.” McCree knelt towards the Messengers again, the latter holding out both hands palm-up towards the Hunter. He placed his own on top, feeling a shift in the air as everything seemed to dissolve around him into a blur of fog and oil. Zenyatta watched quietly before turning towards the house, silver eyes twinkling at the second floor window where a figure stood, watching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the sudden silence on my end; I recently got a job that took up most of my time and gOT INJURED YAY FOR TENDINITIS—
> 
> And I've hit a wall with this fic—might drop it (despite it not even scratching the good parts); might try to continue it.
> 
> All I really know is that I really hated this chapter. I've rewritten this chapter about 5 times and it still bothers me.
> 
> Anyways, thanks for those sticking around! Kudos are appreciated.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue galore and a familiar face.

Hanzo stared at McCree’s decapitated body, seeing it topple over to the side and...burning? The leather coat and bandoliers began to dissipate away into black dust until the Hunter’s body was no longer there, leaving the archer to fend for himself against the Church Giant swinging its axe towards him, its tall stature making its movement cumbersome and awkwardly slow. Yet despite its slow gait, it had a far reach and powerful blow that shook the ground, shattering concrete around Hanzo. He took several steps back, drawing his bow and aiming at the giant’s empty eye sockets, letting the arrow go, embedding it between where its eyes should be. The Church Giant paused momentarily, arms slacking, but never letting go of the heavy axe in its hands. Hanzo reached for another arrow in his quiver before feeling a hand on his shoulder, turning around sharply and almost letting it fly into whomever touched him.

“I did not think you would have trouble with these Church Giants.” The burnt man chuckled. “Your weapon act also as a blade, but you do not use it to its full extent. Why is that?”

“This is not the time for small talk!” Hanzo scolded the man, letting loose another arrow to the Giant’s arm, the axe clattering loudly against the ground. It groaned before bellowing out into the night sky, full-on sprinting towards the Hunters. Both went wide-eyed in surprise and ran the opposite direction, heading up the stairs towards the sealed gates leading into the heart of Cathedral Ward. Cursing under his breath, Hanzo twirled around to see the giant getting closer, winding up an arm.  With a flick of his wrist, the archer snapped his weapon into its blade form, taking a step to the side as the giant’s fist came crashing near the gate. Hanzo used the momentum to lunge towards the giant’s arm, cutting the appendage away as blood began to spray from the wound, dribbling down profusely. The giant let out a cry of pain, reaching for Hanzo with its other hand before the burnt man stood in front of him, drawing out a blade and deftly slashing it away. The archer froze as he saw a streak of emerald from the blade as it moved, the man pushing away from where he stood to dismember the giant further by cutting down its leg. Blood seeped between the cobblestones, flowing downhill as the giant fell with a loud thud, looking up at the two with a low groan. Hanzo walked towards the Church Giant, unafraid as it has no means of attacking him save for a lone leg. Empty eye sockets stared at him, gaping mouth unmoving as the Hunter raised his blade, striking it deep across the face. The giant slackened, its whole body slumped down and began to fade away into dust. Hanzo then turned towards the bandaged man, briskly walking up to him and seizing him by the tattered olive scarf.

“Finally figured it out,  _ anija _ ?”

“Why are you hiding like this? From your own family?” Hanzo growled. “I expected better from you, Genji.”

“It's good to see you as well, Hanzo.” The man said, gently prying his brother’s gripped fingers away from his scarf. “I know you have questions—”

“Then speak.”

“—But I need your help on a certain matter.” Genji said carefully, brows furrowing, the crease visible beneath the bandages. “There's a Cleric Beast inside the Grand Cathedral up on top of the cliff in Cathedral Ward. Several Hunters have gone ahead before the Church Servants and Giants locked the gates.”

“You think killing the beast will end this Hunt as it has twenty-two years ago?” Hanzo asked dubiously. Genji shrugged. 

“It's worth a shot.”

“And these Hunters—”

“Friends of mine.” Genji looked aside. “Truthfully, they are quite young for Hunters. Although, I guess we were young too. In any case, I'm worried for their safety.”

“The cowman from before said that the Hunter’s Watch has disbanded after a fire at their headquarters. Were they part of the Watch as well?”

“No. Winston—I'm sure you've met him—reformed the Hunter’s Watch to some degree. Or, at least, he's attempting to. They're new recruit; eager to help protect Yharnam from the beasts. But you mentioned McCree—did you meet with him earlier?”

Hanzo froze, remembering how his head was lopped off by the axe like a prisoner at a guillotine, the Hunter’s body falling to the ground and dissipating into the night. Such a careless mistake cost the man his life, the archer unable to react fast enough to the giant changing its grip on the axe. He grimaced. 

A failure. 

“He—the Church Giant killed him.” Hanzo said, voice steely and eyes hardened as Genji looked at him, wide-eyed before looking down in disbelief. Suddenly, all Hanzo could see was a younger version of his dear brother before him, on the verge of tears after finding out that  _ obaasan _ passed away. The man before him no longer had tears rolling off his cheeks as he had before as a child, but his fingers gripped tightly onto the side of his jacket. Part of Hanzo was yelling at himself for having someone to die because he could not play his part; he did not disarm the giant quick enough; he did not warn McCree of the wall behind him; he couldn't protect his father from the  twin wolves’ wrath during the meeting at home with the elders; he couldn't save his mother with the healing blood from Yharnam; he couldn't save Genji from being hunted by his own family—

A failure. 

Hanzo flinched as he felt a hand clasp onto his shoulder, blinking and looking to his side to see Genji giving him a forlorn look.  The warped, burnt skin around his eyes made the archer look away. 

“Come, brother; let us find a way to open the gates to Cathedral Ward. I will answer your questions the best I can along the way.”

Genji explained to his older brother that he joined the Hunter's Watch shortly after Hanzo left for Hanamura, training with the other Hunters and adapting to Yharnam culture—as strange as it is. When he stopped receiving letters from home, the  _ oni _ appeared, causing the young Hunter to flee, not wanting to burden or have his newfound friends and family be in harm’s way because of him.

“The  _ oni _ managed to burn me, the demon’s mace was lit aflame. I have never seen something like that before; it had to be one of the elders’ summons.” Genji picked at his scarf, bringing it closer to his nose. Despite telling himself that his vanity meant nothing in a world of monsters, the Hunter still felt self-conscious about showing his marred face to others. Even his own brother. “It still roams the city to this day, looking for me.”

“I should not have left you alone.” Hanzo spoke quietly. Genji shrugged. 

“I think it would have been worse if I were to go back with you. We did not have much of a choice, brother.”

The two had little luck finding a pathway into the district, backtracking down the gateway to a residential area overlooking the inky black horizon with bluish grey clouds cascading the void, the moon shining down brightly and starlight decorating the sky. They found nothing but more Church Giants patrolling the area, staying safely away from them. 

“Perhaps we should confer with the monkey on other routes to get into Cathedral Ward. Or a way to unlock the gate?” Hanzo inquired, crossing his arms as he leaned against the lamppost outside Oedon’s Chapel. Genji let out a contemplative hum. 

“It will be better than having no lead. Also, I would highly suggest not to refer him as a monkey aloud or in front of him.” Genji walked towards the threshold of the chapel. “He's very sensitive.” Hanzo rolled his eyes and followed his brother, long black hair and golden ribbon swaying in the brisk breeze. Strong incense hit Hanzo’s sense of smell like being struck by a hammer to the gut, nearly reeling back as he let out a cough. He looked up at the ceiling to see Athena balancing herself precariously on the balcony, putting new incense sticks inside the large metal container hanging by strong linked chains and deep velvet cloth draped about. Genji walked up to Winston, the two greeting each other briefly before Hanzo heard his brother asking about the lockdown at the nearby ward. 

How has Genji fared within the city for the past twenty-two years? Have the people been kind to him? Has he had his fair share of Hunts? Does he feel anger towards his brother for abandoning him? As Hanzo continued to mull over his thoughts, he heard a strange bubbling sound, turning towards the large rotunda. In the middle of the circular floor was what appeared to be grey liquid toiling and sputtering, tiny white hands bursting up, causing the archer to flinch and back away at the sight. The hands grabbed around aimlessly before several distorted heads came out and looked about, white eyes and gaping mouth giving Hanzo an unsettling feeling in his stomach. Once one of them laid eyes on the Hunter, it jerked alert, waving its arm around rather comically and turning towards its brethrens. They followed its gaze to see Hanzo and, in turn, flailed around as well before diving back down into the bubbling liquid, the ground settling once again. 

Weird. 

_ “Anija.” _ Genji called him over. “Winston has told me that there is something known as the Hunter Chief Emblem that could open the gate heading into the Ward.”

Winston adjusted his glasses, clearing his throat. “Cathedral Ward is always on lockdown during a Hunt; the captains of the Church Hunters use a cloth emblem to open the gates, signifying that the Hunt has ended.”

“Do we know where these emblems are?” Hanzo asked, crossing his arms and glancing back at the circular area behind them.

“The previous captains of the Church Hunters were Morrison, Amari, and Reyes—although, technically, he was no longer an official captain of the Church Hunters.” Winston scratched his chin, ruffling his black fur. 

“I do not understand; are the Hunter’s Watch and Church Hunters one in the same? And why would the Healing Church revoke Reyes’s commanding power?” Hanzo raised a brow, genuinely curious. Both Genji and Winston gave each other an apprehensive look. 

“The Hunter’s Watch started out as a small band of Hunters that the Healing Church gave permission to build a base of operations within the city to deal with the scourge of beasts. The Hunter’s were led by Morrison, Reyes, and Amari.” Winston explained. “As time went on, the Healing Church decided that the Watch should be a legitimate source of defense in the city instead of relying on a band of mercenaries. The Watch was split into two groups: the White Hunters who were not only Hunters, but scholars, helping the Church with the administration of the healing blood. Both Morrison and Amari led the group.”

“Then there were Black Hunters—Reyes’s group. The Black Hunters were meant to be more of a covert elite group meant to eradicate all source of corruption from the healing blood—even before showing symptoms of the beastly scourge. Their means were brutal and precise; calculated and feared by those that caught a glimpse of them. The group technically did not exist within the Church; we acted more like ghostly reapers, if anything.” Genji said quietly. “McCree and I were part of this faction of the Church under Reyes’s command.”

“Eventually, there was bad blood between Morrison and Reyes. People think that Reyes was jealous of Morrison and Amari being given a higher rank than him despite Reyes creating and leading the Hunter’s Watch in the first place.” Winston said. “Headquarters blew up when most of the important Hunters were out on missions or quit the Watch—but Morrison and Reyes were caught in the fire.”

Hanzo blinked at the information given to him about the sudden downfall of the Hunter’s Watch. He did not take Reyes as a petty man; strict, stoic, and possibly prone to anger, but not petty. The last time he saw the two commanders, they looked like two star-struck lovers holding each other’s hand, intertwining their fingers together. But to have all recognition and credit thrown aside must have been a big blow to Reyes as a whole. A part of Hanzo felt pity for the dead man. 

“We know who holds the emblem, but we do not know where it is.” Hanzo stated factually. 

“Worse case scenario: the emblems were burnt during the explosion.” Genji sighed. “Best case...well, we could probably go grave-digging.” His brother glared at him.

“Genji…”

“Their bodies were never found.” Winston interjected, pushing up his glasses, covering himself some more as a few people ambled through the chapel. “Amari was KIA—killed in action—before the HQ fire and when the Hunters went to go retrieve the bodies from the ruins, nobody could find the remains of Reyes and Morrison.”

“Sounds rather suspicious, if you ask me.” Hanzo quipped. It still did not deter the uneasy feeling within his gut that they would be defiling graves of the fallen just to find something that may no longer exist. “Even if their bodies were burnt, there should still be something left—the human body does not simply turn into ash when consumed by flame; it is much more resilient than that.”

“That’s the thing,” Genji stretched and decided to take a seat on the stone railing around the rotunda, flipping the tail of his scarf out of the way. “Angela went to go investigate herself with a team of forensics and they found absolutely nothing for Morrison and Reyes specifically. Other Hunters that got caught in the blast? They found their bodies and gave them a proper burial. The commanders? Reinhardt had to put in empty coffins six feet under out of respect for what they accomplished.”

“Chief Hunters Morrison and Reyes’s coffins were buried with belongings that signified great status within the Healing Church.” Athena said quietly, her calm voice bouncing along the walls. Delicate fingers placed the last incense stick within the large metallic lantern above, drawing back from her dangerous leaning position off the balcony and sat graciously on the railing. Blue eyes looked at the three. “Among those items were the Hunter Chief Emblem. It is likely that the Emblems are still there.”

“But you would so easily defile graves of the fallen like that?” Hanzo asked, flabbergasted. Genji shrugged. 

“We don't have much of a choice.” He said solemnly. “If it means to end the Hunt prematurely, then so be it. I will not allow the people of Yharnam and my fellow Hunters to succumb to the scourge of the beasts.” Hanzo pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a sharp sigh through his nostrils before his shoulders loosened from their tense state. 

“Very well. I assume they were buried at the Tomb of Oedon?”

“Um. From what I recall, yes.” Winston adjusted his glasses again. “Unfortunately, I won't be able to accompany the both of you due to...circumstances.” The gorilla gestured at his being, the white cloth rustling at the movement. 

“That's fine. We need you here to make sure the townspeople are safe and that other Hunters have been informed of what is going on.” Genji said promptly. Winston gave him a nod before the younger brother motioned for Hanzo to follow him towards the back of the chapel into the studies of old Harold Winston. Soft candlelight casted bouncing shadows against the familiar wooden shelves filled to the brim with thick tomes of Yharnam history, the study of blood administration, and other miscellaneous reads (including a very questionable book titled _‘How to Pick Up Fair Maidens.’_ ) Hanzo slid a finger against the edge of the shelves, eyes narrowing as he rubbed his forefinger and thumb together. No dust.

“Let's see.” Genji pondered aloud, looking thoughtfully at one of the bookshelves closest to the hatch leading to the Tomb. “If I remember correctly,” A bandaged finger ghosted along the spines of the leather bound books, stopping as the man let out a soft _‘ah ha’_ and prying a large black book out, nearly slamming it onto the table. He deftly ran through the worn yellowed pages, mumbling to himself before jabbing a finger down hard onto a specific section. “Here we go: ‘Morrison, John. Thirty-six. Killed in explosion at the Hunter’s Watch headquarters in Upper Cathedral Ward. No body found; empty casket. Items of note: silver necklace, Hunter’s badge, Hunter Chief Emblem. Buried in the Tomb of Oedon, section nine.’”

“‘Reyes, Gabriel. Thirty-seven. Killed in explosion…no body found…Items of note: Hunter’s badge, Hunter Chief Emblem, and…Shroud of the Sky Burial?’” Genji gave Hanzo a quizzical look. His brother merely shrugged, equally bewildered. “‘Buried in the Tomb…’ it doesn't say which section.”

“Are these official?” Hanzo asked, crossing his arms. 

“Yes and no; Angela kept an abridged copy of the autopsy, death certificates, and other legal documents in this book for us. It has relevant information…I don't think most people would enjoy reading in-depth about five inch lacerations and specifics in serrated wounds.” Genji gave him a look. “Still. It is strange that she would leave out where Reyes was buried. Well. ‘Buried.’”

“Either way, we have the information we need. Let us make haste.”

Sure enough, as the two took handfuls of the earth and tossed them to the side, there lying beneath the tombstone for Jack Morrison was an empty coffin filled with a plethora of dried flowers, gifts, and the Hunter Chief Emblem. Genji reached down and picked up the bundle of cloth tied up tight with a ribbon and pin, holding it up to show his brother with a smile underneath the bandages, eyes crinkling in joy. Hanzo let out his own small smile before snapping his head up in the direction towards Cathedral Ward, a familiar screech echoing loudly in the air. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who dat is.
> 
> I will be moving soon to SoCal, so I am not sure how often I will be updating this fic, but I have decided to keep on going for the mean time.
> 
> Thank you for your lovely comments and, as always, kudos are greatly appreciated!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More dialogue. Lots of switching view points.

“Hana, we got to go!” The young Hunter harshly tugged the other by her arm as she stared at the white Cleric Beast before her. Serrated maw growled and oozed out white mist, the beast leaning low in a defensive position. Unlike the other Cleric Beasts that were mangy and distorted, this one is…different. White fur pristine and long, wooden horns intricately twisted together and curved back like a hook, breaking off into smaller branches; tattered bandages covering its eyes, the cloth trailing behind the large beast like a ribbon. It merely growled as Hana stared, her lips parting to speak before the other Hunter dragged her away. “We. Got. To. Go!”

“It’s not attacking us though, Lucio.” Hana said dumbfoundedly, brown eyes still latched onto the Cleric Beast that watched them run down the stairs. As they quickly descended the steps, Hana saw a black figure appear before the white beast through a cloud of crow feathers, reaching for a strange wooden contraption strapped to his back and clicking it against the black and silver curved blade in hand. Lucio suddenly halted, causing the young woman to nearly stumble into his back, peering over his shoulder to see several Church Servants and Giants waiting for them outside the cathedral and in the courtyard.

“Aw man.” Lucio clicked his tongue, keeping his voice low as he gripped on the brim of his hat, pushing it up. “Ain’t no way we’re getting passed those guys out front.”

“And the gate’s locked too.” Hana murmured. “Ugh. Why are the gates locked? Church Servants and Giants aren't that smart. We weren't even out for that long.” The sound of the beast and whomever appeared echoed above them, the beast crying out in pain as metal clashed onto stone, echoing throughout the structure. Both Hana and Lucio looked at each other before heading back up, keeping their distance and crouching low against the steps to see the man dressed entirely in black easily dodging the Cleric Beast’s attacks. He took a leap back and held the scythe behind him, waiting for an opportune moment to unleash a powerful overhand swing.

 

///

 

_“Anija.”_ Hanzo grunted in acknowledgement as they made their way back towards the gate to Cathedral Ward. “I've been wondering: why did you decide to come now of all times?” Genji was picking at the ends of his tattered olive green scarf, eyes downcast. It was his way of saying, ‘What took so long? Why did you wait over twenty years?’ Hanzo did not reply, walking more briskly and ahead of the younger. He did not want to tell his brother that he spent twenty-two years trying to rebuild a clan of summoners that he dismantled on accident. A futile attempt to bring back an empire that was once the crown jewel of the far eastern lands, where ancient dragons were the honorable and prideful emperors of the people.  His empire.

Genji stared at his brother before averting his gaze, not wanting to pressure or pry anymore than necessary. He knows his brother well enough that he should not continuously pester him about personal things, even if it includes himself. Of course, that doesn’t always stop him from opening his mouth and saying something that would trigger a landmine. “Did something happen at home?”

“Now is not the time to talk about...home.”

“Will there ever be a time to talk about it or are you just going to ignore it and let it fester—” Hanzo turned sharply towards his brother, deadly daggers in his eyes. Genji faltered back a step, eyes widening in surprise and fear. The elder brother was about to speak until a loud crash from up top the hill broke their argument. Both of them turned towards the gate and the large circular area that had an obelisk similar to the Tomb of Oedon in the middle, several Church Giants also turning towards the source of the sound to see a black figure rushing passed them, weathered bandages trailing behind him. Hanzo almost missed it, but he saw an abnormality in the man’s left arm; it was elongated and had pointed claws. The Church Giants stared at the fleeing man before looking at the two brothers. Hanzo and Genji looked at each other, quickly drawing out their weapons.

“You get left and I’ll get right?” Genji asked.

“Can you handle the Giant by yourself?” Hanzo quipped. Genji rolled his eyes.

“I’m not the one who has been saved twice fighting a Church Giant.” And with that, the ninja leapt into action as his brother looked at him in irritation. Some things never change.  Hanzo drew out his bow, aiming at the Giant’s kneecap and letting the silver arrow go, seeing the monstrosity topple over in pain. He rushed towards it, gripping tightly onto the bow and punching the Giant in the face with the bladed sides of his weapon, hearing the cracklings of bones underneath his fist and blood dribbling out the deep laceration wound. Drawing his hand back, the archer quickly slit the Giant’s throat, its body crumpling down with a loud thud. Hanzo ran a hand through his hair, fingers wrapping around the long ponytail before turning to hear a coarse coughing fit from Genji, the younger  covering his mouth as his body shook from each cough. As Hanzo stepped towards his brother, he noticed that his sword, Ryu-Ichimonji, was still glowing a strange neon green color, specks and particles floating from the blade. Genji let out a final cough, sheathing the sword and taking a deep breath. He turned towards Hanzo with a nod and thumbs up, smile crinkling under the bandages.

“Aw...no fair! You guys took them out before we got to you.” A young voice called out to them, the brothers seeing a girl running up to them. As she stood before them, stance akimbo, she stabbed a finger at Genji’s chest. “What took so long? You told Lucio and I that you'd be here before they would close the gates.” A young man stood beside the girl, both wearing rather new dusters and polished firearms strapped securely against their thighs. Genji glanced subtly at Hanzo before shrugging.

“Complications.” He said. “But are you two okay? What happened to the Cleric Beast?”

Hana and Lucio looked at each other before facing Genji again. “He escaped.”

“What.”

“Like, he just,” Hana gestured towards the stairway leading uphill towards the cathedral, “Ran away. Didn’t even attack.”

“It was weird.” Lucio added. “When we got to the cathedral after hearing about a Cleric Beast inside by other Hunters and folks, there wasn’t anything at first. So Hana and I inspected the area; looked around the plaza, behind the altar—everything. We headed outside for a bit because we thought, ‘hey, maybe the Cleric Beast went towards Hemwick Charnel Lane.’”

“Then we heard a screech inside the cathedral and went to look.” Hana’s brows started to furrow. “There was a white Cleric Beast with bandages covering its eyes and wrapped around its claws; nothing we’ve ever seen before. But even then, he didn’t attack.” Genji raised a brow.

“It didn’t attack?” He asked. Both younger Hunters shook their head.

“He just growled at us. Lucio said we should leave and when we did, I saw a guy in all black just...appear.” Hana said thoughtfully. “Almost magically. Had a weird trick weapon too. Looked really old.”

“Before you two continue, there’s a few questions I have.” Hanzo spoke up, eyes staring almost vacantly at the ground in thought. All three other Hunters looked at him, keeping quiet to let the man continue. “You keep calling this Cleric Beast a ‘he’ or ‘him.’ Care to explain?” Hana pursed her lips while Lucio looked aside towards his partner in crime. It was strange to the man that the two kept calling the beast by a male pronoun. Beasts are beasts; nothing more, nothing less. Before the young woman could speak up, there was a familiar sound coming towards them. The rapid pitter patter of light footsteps running at full speed caught all their attention, the group looking to see a woman with short brown hair sticking out in a disarray speeding towards them. She came to a sudden halt, jumping theatrically and skidding to a stop, winking at the group and saluting with two fingers.

“Where have you been, Lena?” Genji asked, putting his weight on one leg, a hand on his hip.

“I was checking out Yahar’gul because Winston told me that there have been reports of an anomaly or something. Wanted me to check out and make sure it was safe.” She dusted off the shoulder of her jacket, worn dark brown leather having several nicks and tears from beast claws. Although, from Hanzo’s scrutiny, there were some strange cuts in the thick fabric--too clean to be from the teeth or claw of a beast wandering around Yharnam. Far too clean. “It was rather creepy if you asked me, though; Yahar’gul never was a normal place ever since the School of Talon took over it. Could never trust those guys.”

The School of Talon—Hanzo vaguely remembers very little details about them when he was visiting Yharnam twenty-two years ago. Something about how they were a branch from the Healing Church—the rest was lost to disinterest. As Hanzo kept mulling on the past, trying to remember what little he paid attention to the hierarchy of Yharnam, Lena’s report caught his interest.

“Y’know how there’s that big ol’ door that leads to Yahar’gul? There were a bunch of big fat loaf carrying these axes all menacingly guarding the place. Had a bunch of weird headgear too.” She went on a tangent before Genji cleared his throat, giving her a look. “Oh, right. So, the weirdest thing was that when I got close to the door, there was this weird feeling like I was getting sucked into something; like something was pulling me in. Luckily, I managed to run out but when I looked back, there was a big black vortex thingy. Maybe Winston might know something about it. He is a scientist, after all.” Genji a sigh, shoulders slumping.

“Well, it looks like everybody is alright; we should head back to the chapel and explain the situation to Winston about what is happening in Cathedral Ward.” The others nodded in unison, filing away towards Oedon’s Chapel.

“Hana.” The girl turned towards Hanzo, raising a brow. Most Hunters in Yharnam seemed to favor darker colors in their attire, preferably sticking towards dark brown or black dusters. Hana’s was fairly new; the deep brown leather had several creases from where her elbow bent and a few scratches. What amused Hanzo were the red and white stitches on her arm that resembled a rabbit of some kind. She even wore a red ribbon that stuck upwards like rabbit ears as a hairband.

“What’s up?”

“You never answered my question: why did you call the beast a ‘he?’” Hanzo crossed his arms, awaiting an answer as Hana looked over his shoulder towards the group leaving, unaware of their missing presence. She pursed her lips before answering.

“Because I saw who he was before he transformed.”

The archer’s brows rose, waiting for her to continue. She gave him an apprehensive look, as if she might get scolded for withholding information to the group. Or lying. He merely gestured her to speak whenever she pleased, trying to keep his scowl to a minimum. A few seconds passed in silence, the man sighing quietly. “There is nothing to worry about. I simply just want to know the truth.” It was Hana’s turn to sigh, motioning the archer to follow her as they followed the group from a good distance.

“I mean, I don’t know exactly who he is, but I saw a man when we went to go look around the Grand Cathedral. He was near the altar, standing to the side of it while Lucio was looking behind the pillars, so he didn’t see the guy. But what—I don’t know—worries me?” She was uncertain with her choice of words. “What worries me is the fact that he turned into a Cleric Beast. Those that transforms into Cleric Beasts are people that have connections with the Healing Church—usually those of higher rank.”

“And you worry that this person, this high ranked personnel of the Healing Church, would do what?”

“I don’t know—it’s just unsettling if you think about it.” Hana murmured. “The Healing Church was meant to protect us with the Hunters, Choir, and the School of Talon, but the more I think about it, the more it seems like they don’t really care about the welfare of the people. I mean, there are rumors floating around that it was the Healing Church that burned Old Yharnam to the ground, how they didn’t care if Talon was conducting experiments that were deemed unorthodox by people—even the fall of the Hunter’s Watch; they didn’t care.” They found themselves outside the chapel, Genji and the others walking inside and the two heard Lena’s voice talking a mile a minute to whom they assumed was Winston. There were a few hushed laughters as Hanzo and Hana stood outside.

“There’s a lot of things wrong with Yharnam.” She said quietly. “But maybe we can fix it with the new Hunter’s Watch. It’s a little messy—I’m not going to lie—but I feel like we can make a difference for the city.” Hanzo blinked, staring at the girl before settling a hand down onto her head, the younger letting out a squeak of surprise. She looked up, wide-eyed at the man.

“You honor your fellow Hunters with your bravery and will to fight on. It is admirable for someone as young as you.”

“I’m nineteen.”

“Still young.”

 

///

 

Heavy footsteps fell against the slicked cobblestone ground, heels clacking against the surface as black smoke billowed behind the man, wafting in the brisk night air. The hooded man looked up, eyes peering through the small slits of his bone white mask, staring at the bright moon hanging above the city. Clawed gauntlets gripped tightly onto the handle of his weapon, feeling the familiar grooves of the wood against the leather of his gloves.

Never before has a beast slipped away from him before, especially a Cleric Beast of the Healing Church. The way the white beast did not attack the man or two Hunters before his appearance, merely growling at them in warning before bursting into a sprint towards the large green copper casted doors of the cathedral.

A growl escaped from the man’s lips, the black smoke seeping out from beneath the mask, furling around his head.

The Hunt is on tonight—and the beasts of Old have awaken.

 

///

 

McCree blinked rapidly as he looked around to find himself in a familiar building. Tall pillars decorated the edges as the ground was engraved with a circular design akin to that of a mosaic window. The Hunter heaved himself up, catching a glimpse of a small iron lantern behind him, the three Messengers murmuring quietly to themselves, giving McCree a toothy smile, clapping their hands together.

“Hey there.” He knelt down towards them. “Thanks for the lift.” The Messengers nodded before diving back into the ground, leaving the Hunter by himself in the Grand Cathedral. McCree let out a soft whistle, hearing it echo throughout the interior and walked towards the intricate altar laced with golden trimmings. Several statues of cloaked figures with arms reaching for the heavens were placed on parallel sides, the wax from the plethora of candles dripping over the edges of the altar, staining the cloth where a large deformed skull sat. Just rotting away.

_“Hey Reyes. Why do we keep a Cleric Beast skull here?”_

The man was still staring at the skull passively, looking at the dark eyeless sockets and cracked cranium; part of its fang being chipped, faint dried blood residue still lingering on it.

_“Guess they wanted to remind us something.”_

_“Remind us of what?”_ Jesse asked, glancing over at the elder.

_“You know exactly why they put that Vicar skull there; there’s a beast in every one of us—it’s just a matter of time when they will appear.”_

Jesse tugged his scarf up, fingers rubbing against the fabric—a habit he developed during his childhood when his mother did something that did not sit right with him, indicating that he either has something on his mind or is nervous. Yharnam is such a strange city; people drinking blood of miracles as if it is water; beasts roaming around at night, causing the townsfolk to shut their doors and windows; specialized bands of Hunters being tasked to kill these beasts.

Just like him.

McCree drew out Peacemaker, turning around with precision to have the barrel pointing towards a hooded man with a distorted skull mask staring at him. The man didn’t move, merely canting his head to the side as if in curiosity. McCree’s finger was lightly placed on the trigger; one squeeze and a silver bullet would come bursting out at lightning speed towards the man.

_You can’t trust anybody, Jesse._

Killing other Hunters is not an uncommon thing to do in Yharnam; sometimes it is out of competition; sometimes it is to put the Hunters out of their misery from the plague of the beast. The gunslinger has had his fair share of human blood on his hands—both old and new.

“You just gonna stand there?” McCree asked, the hairs on the nape of his neck standing up. Something felt off about the man before him; dressed in all black, a white mask that resembled a bird’s skull with grooves etched onto its surface, black crow feathers visible on some parts of his outfit, a bandolier of silver bullets strapped around his waist. The man shrugged.

“Where’d you get that revolver?” His voice was gravelly; rough and accompanied by a strange echo. Perhaps from the mask. McCree narrowed his eyes at the man.

“What’s it to you?”

The masked man crossed his arms, putting his weight on one leg. “Knew a person that used that gun. An old hunter. Haven’t seen him in a while. Probably dead.”

“Got a name for this old hunter of yours? Because last I checked, Peacekeeper is mine.” He growled, teeth grinding against each other. “I may have done some shit in the past, but I ain’t taking up being a thief again. I’ve put that life behind me years ago.” The man let out a huffed chuckle, shoulders rolling from the silent laughter. He let out a sigh.

“His name was Gabriel Reyes. I killed him.”

McCree took the shot without hesitation, eyes wild at the words burning in his head. The man dodged the bullet, side stepping in a blurred motion—as if he turned invisible for a split second before reappearing. Several more bullets shot out of the barrel, the hammer clicking each time as McCree unloaded the revolver at the hooded man in blind fury. Every single shot missed its mark, the man dancing around each bullet with inhuman speed, getting closer to the gunslinger. As McCree reloaded Peacemaker, he saw the man grab something from behind him—a gnarled wooden contraption that made his blood run cold, nearly dropping the new cartridge of bullets. He drew out a black curved blade from out of nowhere, smoke swirling around his hand and clicking it against the handle as it folded out. A scythe. Reyes’s scythe. The Burial Blade.

The masked man dashed towards McCree, disappearing as soon as he pushed himself away, appearing in front of the gunslinger with the scythe held to the side for an attack. Without thinking, McCree held up his left hand to block the blow, hearing metal on metal. His attacker faltered, the blade losing its strength briefly.

“What is this?” He hissed, smoke leaking from underneath the mask.

“Well partner, you ain’t the only one with tricks up his sleeves.” McCree said, reaching for his flashbangs strapped onto his belt. As soon as he reached it and threw it to the ground, there was a snapping sound as a thick cloud of smoke blew up in front of them. McCree took several steps back, away from the smokescreen, holding Peacemaker close to his chest, looking down at his broken arm. His entire left arm was missing from the elbow down, the metal edges jagged and sharp. He let out a huff, eyes scanning the area and holding his revolver in front of him. The colors around him became mute, grey cobblestone becoming a darker shade while the candlelight went dim.

“C’mon…” He muttered to himself. A hiss escaped from him, feeling the strain of focusing on where the black hunter went. He couldn’t have gone far—the flashbang should have stunned him for a while. McCree almost blinked, feeling something trickling from his right eye before seeing a small red dot appearing slowly in the smoke.

Bingo.

The smoke dissipated as he took the shot, hearing something crack. He saw the man standing there, a clawed gauntlet covering half his face, pieces of his mask clattering to the floor. Through the gaps between his fingers, McCree saw a piercing red eye staring back at him before he disappeared in a large swirl of black smoke and feathers. All was quiet again in the cathedral, McCree letting out a big sigh of relief. He wiped away the blood from his eye, not caring if it left a stained streak across his face as he went out of the cathedral and towards Oedon Chapel, keeping Peacekeeper secure in its holster.

He’s not losing the last reminder of family to anyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry for the sudden silence again.
> 
> I told myself I would finish this chapter LAST week but I was in the process of moving and, well, there was complications. Lots of complications.
> 
> Any who, school is starting soon, so new chapters may be coming out very...unpredictably. I have a very busy semester (seven classes!) and probably won't have a lot of time to do much but work, work, work.
> 
> I really, REALLY hate how this chapter turned out but I didn't want people to wait anymore. Sorry if it's not up to people's expectations.
> 
> Regardless though, I do hope you guys enjoy it; kudos are always appreciated.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reunion, a brotherly talk, and a familiar stranger.

Maybe walking into Oedon Chapel casually wasn’t a good idea on McCree’s part. As soon as he stepped inside, all eyes were on him, the small crowd of Hunters affiliated to the Watch staring at him. The first person to react was Genji, bumping pass his own brother. McCree took a step back as the short man punched him across the face.

“What the hell!” McCree yelled, holding onto his cheek that bloomed with pain. Who the hell is this guy anyways? Face and hands were bandaged up, only revealing fiery brownish grey eyes, burned marks apparent around them.

“What do you mean ‘what the hell?’ My brother told me that you were killed in front of him! So unless you are some beast in disguise, you better explain yourself, Jesse McCree.” The ninja seethed, making everybody else in the room look away. McCree raised both hands up defensively. Well. Technically one hand. Genji’s eyes widened, taking the remainder of the gunslinger’s left arm.

“What. The. Fuck.”

“Look! A lot of things happened when I, uh, died.” He took his arm back, hiding it under his serape. “I don’t even know if y’all will believe me if I even tell you what happened.”

“Aw, don’t say that!” Lena quipped. “I mean, there's been some looney things going on around here. It can't be that bad.” For some reason, McCree had a hard time believing her reassurance. And so he spoke; telling the group that he woke up in a realm that exists but does not exist—a dream that is close to reality. The gunslinger told them of the Hunter’s Dream and its residence, Zenyatta—a talking automaton doll—and his plea on telling Hunters to ‘transcend the Hunt;’ end the ritual that created a nightmare within Yharnam. All eyes were on him as he explained what happened to him, what he witnessed; Winston letting out a contemplative hum.

“So this ‘Hunter’s Dream,’ we don't know why it exists?”

“Zenyatta told me it was because of the Hunt. Kinda like a—uh—safehouse. When Hunters die, there's two things that can happen: one, they die and wake up in the real world; or two, they wake up in the Hunter’s Dream.”

“So whatever is happening right now is literally a nightmare.” Hana murmured. McCree nodded.

“Yeah. And there's these lil guys called Messengers. They look a little freaky but they're cute lil guys that just wants to help us out. I think they like appearing near the purple lanterns though.” The Hunter walked towards the rotunda of the chapel, staring at the iron lantern emitting a soft lavender glow. He knelt down in front of it with a small smile.

“Hey. You guys there?” He called out quietly to the lantern. “Why don't you guys come on out and introduce yerselves to my friends?”

As if on queue, the ground around the lantern bubbled a dark grey ichor, three white head peering up and letting out elated sounds to see the Hunter in front of them.

“They're kinda cute in their own creepy way.” Lena knelt down besides him, wiggling a finger in front of them and cooing. She let out a giggle as one of them grabbed it and shook her finger as if it were a handshake.

“Yeah.” McCree drawled. Standing back up. “They grow onto you fast.”

“So what now?” Lucio asked. Winston let out a contemplative hum, crossing his large arms together while huddling into his cloak, brows furrowing.

“I’m honestly not sure.” He said ruefully, a troubled expression on his face for not having a clear answer. Collective sighs echoed in the chapel with everybody at a loss. “Why don't we rest up for a while; collect our thoughts before coming up with a plan?”

“I guess that'd be the best option for now.” Lena said. She and Winston began talking to each other quietly while the younger Hunters ambled towards a corner to sit down and rest. McCree stood there with the brothers, awkwardly silent. Both of them were still glaring at the rugged Hunter. Despite the bandages covering Genji’s face, the two had similarities in their angered looks; brows furrowed and brown eyes sharp with fury.

“Okay. I get why Genji’s angry, but why you?” McCree gestured towards Hanzo. “You don't even like me.” The archer merely let out a huff before his younger brother seized McCree by the wrist and dragging him towards the north entrance, walking outside to a railing overlooking Yharnam. “Look—”

“You died.”

“Well, yeah.”

“You. Died.”

“I think we established that I've died and came back, Genji.”

“How can you be so calm about this?” Genji exclaimed. “Do you know what it feels like to hear that your best friend was killed and you weren't even there to stop it?” McCree let out a sigh and put a hand on his shoulder. He gave him a leveled look.

“You ain't got the rights to say shit like that when you just decided to run away without telling us why.”

“You knew why I ran; I did it to protect the Watch from what chases me.”

“And why does it matter if I die or not?” McCree threw up his remaining arm, his damaged one glinting under the moonlight with several loose pieces being flung into the night. The younger man’s eyes widened before narrowing. “People didn't give a damn about me then, why would they now? Because I helped the Watch? Because I was Commander Reyes’s son? I was a goddamn kid that ran with a gang extorting and manipulating people for our own fucking selves.”

“Do you not care what others think about you? Are you even listening to yourself?” Genji growled, harsh movements loosen the bandages around his face. McCree could see the puckered skin and burn marks between the cloth, grimacing. “Don't throw away your life so carelessly Jesse—there will be a time where you will regret it.” The two stood there in silence, the gunslinger pulling out a cigar from his pouch and lighting it up, puffing out several clouds of smoke.

“Hanzo was worried.”

McCree raised a brow, turning towards the ninja who was taking off his bandages carefully. The long spun cloth snaked between his fingers, crumpling into his palm, looking at the man next to him. McCree had a strong urge to look away out of respect but found himself staring at a familiar face. Genji still had a youthful look to him despite what happened—whatever happened to him; his black hair was still slicked back with a small strand hanging from the peak, similar to his brother; brown eyes warm with a devout friendliness and charm to them.

“I know I'm handsome but you can stop staring. It's making me self-conscious.” Genji huffed out a small chuckle, pulling up his scarf to his lips. “But yes; when Hanzo told me what he saw—how you...died—he was distressed. And my brother is not one for emotions. He tries to hide anything considered a weakness, especially his concern for others; I know you two didn't get along back then, but him knowing that you were essentially a partner Huntsman made him feel responsible for your death.”

McCree chewed slowly on the cigar, embers crackling the ashes away to the ground.

“Hanzo doesn't need anymore distress in his life—the clan did enough of that.”

“So what do you want me to do? Apologize? ‘Hey, sorry I got my head lopped off!’” He gave out a dry laugh. “I ain't a liability.” Genji let out an exasperated groan.

“I'm not saying you are; just—”

“Genji.” The two turned to see Hanzo standing at the arch, arms crossed and giving the two a stern look. He gestured with his chin to talk to his brother, the younger walking up to him.

 _“Yes?”_ He asked, raising a brow. His brother did not answer, only placing both hands on his shoulders firmly, scrutinizing the man. Hanzo licked his thumb and cleaned a streak of dirt across Genji’s temple, the younger trying to swat his brother’s hand away. _“_ Anija! _Cut that out. I'm not a little kid anymore.”_

 _“But evidently you do not take care of yourself.”_ Hanzo said before sighing, strong shoulders slumping. _“I overheard you two speak. You both are not quite that quiet as you may think you are.”_

 _“I meant what I said.”_ Genji crossed his arms, looking over his shoulder to see McCree leaning against the stone railing overlooking the lower plaza of Cathedral Ward going towards Old Yharnam. _“I don't want you to hurt yourself because you think you've failed him.”_

Before Hanzo could even speak, Genji held up a hand to quiet him. _“I know how you are, brother. And I know how the clan tried to create a perfect heir but you have to realize that we are only human; we will always have flaws within us. If we don't acknowledge that fact, how are we any different from the mindless beasts roaming around the city?”_ His brother was quiet, looking aside. _“Just—take some time to think about it. And for what it's worth, he doesn't blame you for what happened.”_

Hanzo snorted dismissively, subconsciously playing with the ends of his ponytail over his shoulder.

 _“You look like father with your hair like that.”_ Genji remarked, falling silent. _“How is he?”_ The archer froze, face placid and a fist tightening against his side. All he could hear was the twin wolves roaring in the council hall, wooden doors shattering as people shouted, getting up from their seats and summoning their own beasts.

 _“He's dead, isn't he?_ Okaasan _too.”_ His brother had a somber smile on his face. A hand went towards his right shoulder. _“I felt it even from here, their dragons fading away. I just hoped it wasn't painful.”_ Hanzo let out a breath.

 _“Mother passed away in her sleep. She refused to take the vial I brought back.”_ He said. _“She accepted death so willingly—with a smile on her face, saying that it is merely_ ‘the way of life.’ _”_ Hanzo dug into his coat pocket to pull out two strips of tattered paper, the surface showing a white wolf on one, and a brown wolf on another. Golden ink shimmered past all the dirt and burn marks. Genji looked up from the talismans, eyes widening.

 _“She gave you Haku and Haru.”_ Hanzo nodded. _“They will serve you well.”_ After a pregnant pause, the archer handed over the paper with the white wolf to Genji. His brother stared at him, bewildered.

_“Why are you giving me—”_

_“You cannot always rely on_ Ryu-Ichimonji _to protect you. And both our dragons have become dormant ever since our parents’ death.”_ Hanzo said. He pushed the talisman towards his younger brother again, Genji taking the weathered paper carefully, hearing it crinkle in his grasp. A white winter landscape decorated the worn parchment, Haku dancing in the middle with careful brush strokes emphasizing the wolf’s character against the snow banks and pine trees. Genji knows Haku is Hanzo’s favorite of the twin wolves. The two would play with the noble beasts as children, their mother watching them with a soft smile from the base of the willow tree.

“Thank you, brother.” Genji said. “Although I am not one for summoning, I will keep Haku close.” Hanzo nodded, looking beyond his brother’s shoulder to see McCree turning slightly towards them, his cigar burnt to a stub.

 _“You should go talk to him.”_ Genji smiled, stowing Haku’s talisman away carefully within his coat. _“I'm sure the both of you are in need of company.”_

“Unnecessary.” Hanzo said with a roll of his eyes. _“What is there even to talk about?”_

“Well, why don't you find out?” His brother gave him a push towards the other hunter standing by, flicking his cigar away. The archer growled at his brother’s antics, turning around with his hair and ribbon swaying in the soft breeze. Genji smiled, walking towards the lantern back within Oedon Chapel, kneeling down and holding out his hand towards it. A dim white glow surrounded him, grey liquid bubbling beneath his figure before disappearing in a veil of mist.

As Hanzo walked towards McCree, the latter turned around at the sound of his footsteps. He tipped his hat towards him. “Hey.”

“Hello.”

“Heard I gave you quite the fright back there with me, y’know, dying and all.” The Hunter shrugged, taking out another cigar and putting it in his mouth, a hand fiddling with the lighter—on and off.

“Tampering with death never ends lightly.” Hanzo said, feeling the weight of Haru’s talisman against his breast pocket. McCree sighed, scratching the back of his head, nearly tipping his hat over.

“Look. Genji told me that you felt responsible for my death—gods that's weird to say—but just know that I don’ blame you for what happened. I fucked up and that was all on me. If anything, I deserved that death.” He looked aside, muttered under his breath. “Lords know I need that kind of punishment.”

“What do you mean?” Hanzo asked, curiosity piquing his interest. McCree just waved him off, shaking his head and telling him to forget about it.

“Anyways, what're you gonna do now that you know Genji is safe and sound?”

“Not quite yet; there is still the matter of the _oni_ roaming about looking for him.”

“You know he ain't gonna let you hunt that down for him.”

“I know, but that will not stop me from doing so.” Hanzo huffed, walking towards the railing and leaning over it. “He's my family, I cannot leave him as I have before.” McCree was quiet, chewing on the cigar.

“Yeah. I get where you're coming from.”

They stayed quiet, enjoying the mutual silence before Hanzo spoke up.

“What happened to your arm?” He asked, McCree not noticing how the man sat on a nearby bench with a leg over another; a regal posture that he has seen before twenty-two years ago whenever he went into the studies to talk to Genji, seeing the elder brother sitting in the corner surrounded by books. Hanzo leaned against his knuckles resting on his temple, waiting for McCree to reply. The man looked down at the damaged prosthetic arm under his serape.

“Oh, this lil ol’ thing? Got into some trouble after leaving the Watch before shit went down.” He grimaced at the memories of Reyes yelling at Morrison at the dead of night, screaming about how the Church was corrupted and that they were nothing more than mad scientists trying to achieve the impossible. They were once a happy bunch—a family. And it was all torn down so fast. “I went to Old Yharnam to, ah, look for something. Stumbled into one of the chapels there and was attacked by a blood-starved beast. Nasty things; their skins are peeled back and are covered with poisonous venom—it ain't pretty. Thing decided to chomp my arm and I had to get it amputated right there so the venom wouldn't go through my entire body. Met a guy that makes machinery stuff and he offered to make me a new arm provided I take care of some pesky lesser beasts around the area. Wasn't so bad; at least it didn't take my good shooting arm.”

_But you're good with two revolvers, Jesse. That's something to be proud of at your age._

Hanzo hummed in amusement, closing his eyes. “I will be leaving to hunt down the _oni_ within a few hours.”

“That an invitation?” McCree mused.

“That depends on you.” Hanzo said, sighing and heading back for the chapel. He looked up at the night sky. “If this is truly a nightmare, I suppose we will not see the sun anytime soon.”

“What makes you say that?”

The Amygdala above the chapel turned towards Hanzo, multiple eyes blinking at him as he stared back.

“Just a feeling.”

 

///

 

The white haired man gasped for breath, keeling over in the thicket of the woods. He held onto his left arm, a long string of bandages unfurling around it as his muscles twitched, the clawed hand itching for blood.

_Keep that up, and you won't be living for long with all these Hunters nearby._

“I know.” He growled, feeling a drop of sweat dripping from his temple and onto his leather coat. Seeing the girl’s terrified face was the only thing that stopped him from attacking the two young Hunters inside the cathedral. The insignia of the Watch was apparent on their coats, a white circle with red curling about. A symbol that once stood for peace within Yharnam—now in shambles.

_They didn't make us to hurt others; they made us to protect them. A little ironic, if you ask me._

The man let out a pained chuckle, slumping onto the ground, blue eyes dazed and seeing nothing but a blurred dark horizon of green grass swaying to and fro, along with a plethora of trees surrounding him. Before he closed his eyes to rest, he saw a figure walking towards him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for the late update--started school and I'm swamped with work. I barely have time to write but I try my best to poop out something every night to progress the story. Expect shorter chapters and apologies in advance if the quality goes down a bit.
> 
> Anywho, thanks for those that have stuck around--story will be picking up very soon and hopefully some weird plot holes from the beginning will be answered, along with the long awaited shipping stuff /confetti.
> 
> Also got a little treat for you guys! I've doodled some stuff for the AU and thought you guys might want to take a gander at. They're quite old drawings so not very up to my standards but /shrugs. And there's slight spoiler warnings so beware (I left out very heavy spoiler-related ones).
> 
> They're from oldest to "newest." [Enjoy!](http://imgur.com/a/hqW0p)
> 
> Again, thanks for sticking around and kudos are always appreciated!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An injury, an argument, and ghosts.

Hanzo was pacing back and forth in the small study room after his rest, McCree watching him from the wooden chair he sat in, legs propped up onto the table. Genji suddenly disappeared again after talking with his brother, the others within the chapel saying that they did not see him walk back into the building. With a snarling curse, Hanzo grabbed his blade-bow from the table and briskly walked out, the wooden door opening with a crack. McCree sauntered behind him, seeing Winston’s surprised expression as the cloaked gorilla jolted from the sound. He tipped his hat in greeting to the scholar. Winston gestured towards the fuming man, receiving a shrug from McCree as he followed Hanzo out of the chapel.

“What're you gonna do now?” The Hunter asked, taking out another of his never-ending supply of cigars. Hanzo let out an aggravated growl, halting abruptly near an empty carriage right outside the chapel. His hair and golden ribbon swayed in the light breeze, shoulders heaving up and down from his rage. “Can't you just use your dragon magic thing to find him? I mean, if I recall correctly, that's what you said before.”

“I cannot sense him with the dragons anymore.” He seethed, making McCree raise a brow. Hanzo took a deep breath, knuckles popping at the strain he was putting onto Storm Bow in his hand. “They are dormant and will not awaken under our command.”

McCree hesitated but bit the bullet. “Why’s that?”

“It is complicated; an outsider of the clan would not understand how spirit dragons behave within this world.” He walked up the stairs leading to the inner parts of Cathedral Ward, drawing an arrow as a Church doctor came ambling from the top of the steps, a purple lantern in its hand with a multitude of eyeballs covering it, blinking at the archer. The Church doctor took notice of the two, pointing at them with a gaping mouth producing a strangled groan, hastily stomping towards them. McCree went for Peacekeeper, drawing the silver revolver out and aiming at the mindless servant. Hanzo shot first, the arrow striking true to its target, embedding itself within its mouth, blood dripping from the circular void. The sound caused another Church doctor to stir nearby, this one running towards them with a large cane. McCree fired once, the body hitting the floor and sliding down the steps with a crunching sound until it stopped at the bottom where they stood. With a twirl of his revolver, McCree stashed it away into his holster, winking at the archer who rolled his eyes in disgust.

They walked towards the entrance of the Grand Cathedral, stopping to see Hana and Lucio talking to one another near the doors.

“What're you kids doing out here?” McCree asked, raising a brow at the two.

“Patrol. We heard a weird sound coming from the forest heading to Hemwick Charnel Lane.” Hana eyed a pathway to the side of the church. “It didn't sound like a beast though. Whatever it was, it sounded like it was talking.”

“Talking?”

“Yeah. Nothing audible or decipherable but it wasn't any wolf or cleric beasts.” Lucio added, throwing his arms behind his head. Hana nodded.

“Winston told us to stay within the district ever since the cleric beast incident here.” The youngest of the Hunters rolled her eyes. “I doubt there's anything in Hemwick Charnel anyways—just a bunch of creepy old ladies with pitch forks and knives.” Hanzo looked over at the gunslinger, a questioning look on his face.

“Hemwick Charnel is an area just outside of Cathedral Ward where a lot of the farmers and poor used to live.” McCree explained. “Bunch of the men went missing while the women stayed and were hit in the head or something. Some say there's a witch living deep in the woods and that if you continue to follow a path, you can reach Cainhurst Castle.”

“Except Cainhurst has been off-limits for over twenty years now.” Hana quipped. “I think the bridge is busted anyways.” McCree gave her a dubious look.

“You're only nineteen—how would you know that it's off-limits?”

“Uh, because I read history books and my parents told me? Just because I'm younger than what happened, doesn't mean I'm oblivious from it.” Hanzo turned his head to the side, hiding a laugh from the younger hunter and baffled gunslinger. She and Lucio decided to stay within Cathedral Ward, saying that they will be doing several patrols around the area in case they find an anomaly to report to Winston. The elder Hunters nodded and devised a plan to investigate whatever is making noises in Hemwick Charnel, as well as finding clues on where Genji went. As they walked to the side of the Grand Cathedral, Hanzo noticed McCree continuously trying to adjust his serape to cover his broken arm.

“Are you not going to repair your arm?” He asked, wading in the tall silver grass. McCree looked down at the metal peeking beneath the leather and shrugged.

“The fellow that made this is probably long gone by now.” He wiggles his arm around under the serape. “It was...maybe five years ago? More? Less? I can't remember.”

“I find that forgetting how you lost your arm is unbelievable.” Hanzo said, looking around cautiously as they entered a rocky tunnel opening up to a wide field of silver grass and black trees. McCree grabbed him by the shoulder, pulling him back and drew up Peacekeeper. “What are you—”

The gunslinger held up his gun, scanning the area as it all went dim, red pin prick marks appearing here and there. More than six appeared.

Dammit. Too many.

Hanzo watched with uncertainty at what the gunslinger is doing, seeing McCree letting out a shaky breath before firing rapidly into the fields. He whipped his head to see several shadowy figures slump to the ground, dogs barking nearby and a strange whistling sound echoing in the valley. McCree staggered backwards, wiping his eyes, a streak of blood smeared across them.

“We gotta go!” He went bolting down the forest, Hanzo staring in bewilderment before following, Storm Bow in hand. Passing through the thickets, the archer saw several mangy mutts speeding beyond the trees, white eyes trained on the two while specks of fur fluttered away. Gunshots fired from puffs of smoke in the corners of the forest, the two Hunters ducking as bullets whizzed past them, Hanzo turning around to let loose a quick shot before continuing to run towards a gate up ahead. He came to a skidding stop as a black and red light shone from the ground in front of the gates, a tall, lanky, shadowy figure clawing its way up from the demonic abyss with a sickle, disheveled hair wavering in the wind. McCree ran past it without notice, only turning to see Hanzo stopping.

“What are you doing? Get over here before—” An infected dog came from behind the archer, jaws open and ready to clamp down onto the unsuspecting hunter. The gunslinger shot the mutt as Hanzo rolled out of the way, eyes trained on something in front of him. His eyes widened as McCree saw the dirt before him being stabbed repeated where the archer was, Hanzo knocking an arrow and letting it loose. The Hunter saw it floating midair, as if it is stuck to some invisible entity. With a growl, Hanzo rushed towards where the levitating arrow was and slashed at whatever was in front of him with the blade of his bow, a black head appearing and toppling onto the ground. McCree stared at it before seeing the mass disintegrate, looking back up at Hanzo. The archer huffed out a grunt, hurrying towards the gate before being struck by a bullet from behind, blood blossoming on his back as he fell over. McCree hurried over to drag the man away, another bullet ricocheting off the metal gate.

“What was that?” The gunslinger breathed. Hanzo hissed, being set down in a little alcove where a lone purple lamp sat quietly. They stared at it before looking at each other.

“Does one have to visit the Dream in order to use the lanterns?”

“Why don't we find out?” McCree helped Hanzo over to the small iron lantern, the lavender glow haunting but soothing to the Hunters. A gloved hand reached out for Hanzo's, leading it towards the lantern. Everything around them seemed to have melted into a hazy mist, the archer nearly reeling back before finding himself on cobblestone instead of dirt. “Well. Guess it worked.” He helped the archer up, head flicking towards the door as it opened slowly to reveal Genji looking at them in surprise. His eyes widened, rushing towards his brother.

“ _Anija_! What brings you to the Dream? Did something happen?” He looked over his brother and then gave McCree a worrying glance.

“We ran into a bit of trouble on the way to Hemwick Charnel. Tried getting rid of the Huntsmen hanging around the entrance but alerted the dogs and...something.”

“Something.” Genji echoed dubiously.

“There was some monstrosity that came from the ground, through a red puddle. It was as black as the abyss and carried a sickle with it.” Hanzo recalled.

“Mad Ones. Those that have succumbed to an ill omen within the valley.” The automaton said from the doorway. He stepped aside, holding the door open. “Come inside. I shall see to your wounds.” Zenyatta waited for the three, Genji entering first with a bow while the other two were hesitant. The ninja pulled out a chair for his brother while McCree decided to lean against a nearby bookshelf.

“McCree, may I see your arm?” Zenyatta asked. The gunslinger strode towards the automaton, holding out his damaged arm—or therefore lack of an arm. He let out a contemplative hum. “It doesn't seem to hinder you as much as I thought it would.” McCree just shrugged.

“It happens. I got used to it.”

“You cut off your own arm.”

“Yeah.”

“But not with your weapon.” Zenyatta gazed up at the gunslinger. The brothers watched in curiosity, Genji giving McCree a wary look. “I believe I can fix this.”

“You don't need to.”

“I insist.” Zenyatta threw an orb to McCree, letting it hover above him with its calming golden glow. Genji turned his attention to his brother. He looked at where his coat was stained, clicking his tongue.

“Doesn't look like a fatal wound. McCree brought you here, didn't he?” No response. “Well, just know that wounds within the Dream are mended almost immediately. I'm sure you do not feel any pain but do try to be careful out there in the Nightmare.”

“Why did you leave all of a sudden?” Hanzo seethed. Genji let out a sigh.

“Do you remember how McCree told you that those who have seen the Dream died before?”

Hanzo nearly screamed as two and two clicked together, restraining himself from yelling at his brother for being so reckless. He glared at the younger, Genji’s eyes downcast—but with a small smile.

“The _oni_ found me and burned me with its _kanabo_.” He said. “Then I woke up here, Zenyatta tending to my wounds and telling me of the mystery surrounding Yharnam.” Genji looked over at the automaton holding McCree’s arm, a white glow emitting from his palm and reconstructing the metal hand, light weaving like thread under and over.

“...This nightmare has been happening for a while now.” Hanzo realized. Genji nodded.

“I'm not sure exactly when it started, but I would not be surprised if it was near the fall of the Watch.” The younger man’s shoulders slumped. “So many things happened. The commanders arguing with one another, Amari-san was killed in action, Angela locked herself up in the clinic and refuses to come out in fear of the scourge infection patients—everything just fell apart so fast.”

Hanzo let out a small sigh, leaning back in his chair. He didn't know what to say to his brother. Too much has happened over the years—too much burden being carried on their shoulders.

“Brother,” Genji started. “Do not lie to me; why did you leave Hanamura and set out for Yharnam once more?” The man had a point; there is no reason for him to be in Yharnam now—he found his brother but has now been thrust into a world of bloody hunts and rituals of the unknown.

“Because our home is gone, Genji. I destroyed it.” He said solemnly, head bent low. “When mother died of illness, father tried his best to not let her death falter him—but it was evident through his stature that he changed. The clan saw it as an opening, a weakness. They called upon a council and I interfered. I summoned the wolves and they—” Hanzo felt the weight of Haru’s talisman against him, a burning sensation at his chest pocket. Genji settled a hand on his shoulder, nodding at him to continue.

“They devoured everything; father, the elders, our castle went up in flames and covered over in a snow storm. It was my fault for not being able to control them from destroying our home—I could feel the dragons within me scorning at my recklessness for thinking I can tame such grand beasts from a more experienced summoner.” Hanzo tilted his head back, eyes closed. “I tried rebuilding the clan, but all the servants and those that had close ties to us broke away in fear of the spirits we kept within the walls. They were afraid of an inexperienced summoner being at the seat of power with no council—just a tyrant on top of the hill in Hanamura.”

He heard fabric shifting, opening an eye to see Genji taking a seat cross legged on the floor. The younger brother covered his mouth, eyes closed and took a deep breath.

“Accepting your mistakes will help you move forward.” The two turned to see Zenyatta walking towards them, hands behind his back, McCree following the doll while flexing his new hand. Hanzo grimaced at the automaton, turning away before footsteps from upstairs caught their attention. They were heavy footsteps, thudding against the carpet rugs McCree remembers decorating the polished wooden floors.

“Is there someone else here, Master?” Genji asked, brows furrowing while his eyes were trained at the ceiling. Hanzo raised a brow at the title.

“It seems the owner of the Dream has returned.” The monk said quietly, the footsteps stopping momentarily before retreating back and forth. “Do not fret; the master of the Dream seldom sees Hunters downstairs. Often times, he is too busy reassessing the situation at hand.”

“Situation?” Genji asked.

“The Nightmare.” McCree murmured. Zenyatta nodded. The gunslinger looked at the stairs. “You mind if I...take a look? If this place is an exact replica of the Watch, I kinda want to see my room again.” The monk gestured the man to go ahead and explore the house, McCree tipping his hat in thanks. He took tentative steps up the stairs, hearing the wood creak and groan from his weight. There were five doors down the hallway. The first one on the left was the bathroom, second door to the right was a guest room, and the third—

McCree stopped in front of the third door to the left, a gloved hand reaching for the polished golden knob. He even noticed the tiny tick marks against the doorframe when Reyes and Morrison would keep record of his insane growth spurt. With a twist of the knob, McCree opened the door to find his old room the same as it used to be before he left. The square room was spacious, a bed tucked away in the corner with a desk under the large window, several stacks of books and papers neatly put away. He walked slowly, a hand gliding across the wooden shelves filled with books on taxonomy, astrology, mathematics, craftsmanship, Pthumerian history, and so forth. Gabe always did wanted him to be well-versed in education, the man remembering how the first few days of being essentially adopted was doing homework on a variety of subjects. There were some subjects he enjoyed, others he forgot quickly. McCree looked up at the number of weathered posters and newspaper clippings plastered on the walls of legendary Hunters, some even including the Big Three of the Watch—Gabe, Jack, and Ana. As he came to his desk, McCree noticed that all the picture frames were empty. He grimaced, wondering if the Dream just simply does not allow pictures or someone took them out for some reason.

A quiet knock on the door caused McCree to spin around, seeing Hanzo at the threshold.

“Can I help you?” The Hunter asked, eyeing the archer as he strode inside carefully, looking around.

“I did not take you to be a reader.” Hanzo said, stopping in front of the bookshelves, a finger dancing along the spines of the books. He stopped at a black book with silver lettering: ‘ _The Forgotten City_.’ “I take it that these are merely for decor?”

“Nah. Reyes and Morrison basically home schooled me.” The man sat on his bed, springs bouncing at the weight of depression. “What else were you going to do with a kid from the streets? I never went to school because my ma couldn't afford it and Deadlock thought it was a waste of time. All people ever taught me was how to steal and use a gun.”

Hanzo took a seat at the desk, looking at the empty picture frames. “What did Reyes see within you?” McCree shrugged.

“Dunno. I always wondered about that myself.” He said, lying down on the plush bed, feeling the soft blankets wrapping around him. “Just some Hunter that picked up a twelve year old running away from a bunch of beasts in Old Yharnam when it was burning to the ground.”

“Why did Old Yharnam fall? I have read very little on the subject but it made no sense to me on why a city was burnt down. The Church did nothing to help.”

“Because they’re the ones that started it.” Hanzo turned towards the man. McCree was playing with the brim of his hat. “Think about it; the Church didn’t do anything to help the town. Before the fires, the water system was poisoned by an unknown source. ‘Unknown source.’” The Hunter emphasized with air quotes.

“Go back a little further—now keep in mind, this part is what Reyes told me—go back a little further,” he repeated. “It started with something called ‘Ashen Blood,’ which was supposedly one of the source of the scourge in Yharnam. Sure, there were antidotes for it, but it didn’t work for the long run. Then, suddenly, the Church comes out and says, ‘Hey, check out this new cure that works.’ Lo and behold, it’s the blood ministration.” Hanzo blinked, trying to wrap his head around all the information the gunslinger just told him.

“They poisoned the city in order to spread this miracle blood.” Hanzo came to the conclusion. McCree grunted in affirmation. “But why would they do that to their own people?”

“Why else? The Church is just a bunch of mad scientists doing their goddamn research bullshit on the populace because we’re the only guinea pigs—the only specimens.” He let out a sigh. “‘There's never sound reason from people wanting power..’ That’s what Reyes would always tell me.”

Somebody clearing their throat caught the two Hunters’ attention, McCree sitting  up while Hanzo turned in his seat to see Genji standing at the doorway, Zenyatta behind him. The two mentioned that Genji was heading out to go report in with Winston about the anomaly near Yahar’gul. Zenyatta said that, judging by the description Genji told him of what he saw and what Lena said.

“I am unsure why the Amygdalas are appearing throughout Yharnam. Perhaps it is linked to the Hunt.” The monk said, folding his ball-jointed hands in front of him. “Although...I do believe they originate from the Nightmare Frontier, a plane that confounds even myself.” Genji turned towards his brother.

 _“What will you do now, brother?”_ He asked. Hanzo let out a contemplative hum, eyes downcast.

_“That oni is still after you.”_

_“_ Anija _, you don't have to fight it. It is none of your concern.”_

 _“It is my concern and business, sparrow. That demon is looking for you because of my foolishness on abandoning you in this forsaken city—having the elders know that you are vulnerable away from our family.”_ Genji grabbed him by the collar, yanking him harshly towards him. His brown eyes flared with anger, a glint of green sparkling in his pupils.

 _“I am not a child anymore, brother. You need to realize that time changes everything, including yourself. But you cannot go forward if you keep yourself in the past. It is a shame you did not take heed to any of the words I have spoken to you earlier. You're nothing more than a pawn to a dead cause.”_ He let go of his older brother’s collar, briskly walking away with a swish of his dark green scarf flowing behind him. Zenyatta let out a quiet sigh, shoulders falling before gesturing them towards the entrance again. As they walked downstairs, McCree halted, looking over his shoulder after hearing a door clicking open. The last door at the end of the hallway was ajar, seeing a shadow quickly vanish to the side.

Reyes’s room.

 

///

 

Everything felt—warm. With a groan, the white haired man woke up to the sound of multiple voices being muffled through the thick wooden walls. He sat up, the bedsheets shifting at his movements and looked around.

_Again?_

The man recognized the room, the dark mahogany wood polished to a shine, decorated with several paintings and framed medals. Despite the professional look to it, the room still felt homely. There were books on books towering from the floor to ceiling, the shelves crammed with a plethora of tomes and papers that he recognized some by the pattern of the spines. A black guitar with a hand painted white skull on its surface sat quietly against the large desk in front of the cracked curtain window. He used to go into this room quite often when he was younger—when things were simpler. The man didn’t know much on how he always wound up in the Hunter’s Dream, where a talking doll spoke seldom to him, and a child that kept to himself in one of the rooms had a painfully familiar face. For some reason, he never really questioned it, just accepting the fact that he woke up here every time after…

Dying.

“Jack?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay—I'm going to try my best to pick up the pace in the next chapter. 
> 
> It was funny—I was typing this chapter so fast because I was in the zone but then it just faltered when I realized I have a lot of homework due soon /chokes.
> 
> Thanks for reading and kudos are always appreciated!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A confrontation, an Old Hunter, a dream, and secrets no longer being secrets.
> 
> Also, sorry.

Hanzo pointed the arrow at the large beast—it was unlike anything he has ever seen before. Its black fur coiled and moved around as if wind constantly swept through it, dancing about with the electricity crackling around it. Red eyes locked onto the archer’s, a loud growl emitting from the beast before it launched itself towards him.

 

///

 

_ Several hours earlier… _

“I told you already that I don't need your help!” Genji snarled as Hanzo and McCree followed him down Hemwick Charnel Lane. The gunslinger sighed, putting his weight on one leg while placing a hand on his hip. 

“Listen, Genji; Hanzo’s just worried about you. I mean he came all this way from your homeland to make sure you are alive and safe. That's what older brothers do, right?” McCree said, a little unsure of himself as he looked over at Hanzo. The elder brother was merely glaring ahead where Genji was walking away. “You two are acting like a bunch of kids.”

“I am not!” Both brothers shouted simultaneously, McCree trying to keep a straight face from the irony of it all. He cleared his throat, holding up both hands defensively as they continued to trek through the wooded area. Several disheveled women roamed around the fields with ungainly visage, carrying large shears, sharp gardening rakes, and butcher knives. The three Hunters looked at one another, troubled expressions all around.

“Nonlethal?” Genji asked.

“I doubt they'll feel the same.” McCree said, taking out Peacekeeper and checking the cylinder. Five shots. He clicked his tongue, feeling the remaining bullets on his belt. Not a lot left. Hanzo snapped his head up, lowering himself towards the ground as the others watched in bewilderment. A crackling sound caught their attention, the archer drawing an arrow and silently zoning in on the fields. Heavy footsteps shook the ground, metal raking against the dirt mixed with stone, causing crows to fly away from the cacophonous noise. Genji drew out his blade, holding it close to him as McCree held out his revolver, ready to fire. The old hags roaming around in the field turned as well to the noise, ambling towards in in curiosity. A deafening screech of a woman echoed throughout the valley, accompanied by a roar. Genji stiffened. 

“The  _ oni _ .” He murmured, eyes trained onto the thickets, a glint of green sparking within them. Hanzo was the first to move, dashing into the depths of the woods with his bow blade in hand. Behind him, the voices of his brother and McCree were long faded away. A trail of scattered gardening tools and crude weaponry lied in the archer’s wake as he came to an opening, mutilated bodies with bones snapped into different angles and blood drenching the grass. The sound of crunching bones made Hanzo look up from the bodies to see a large creature hunched over in the middle of the fields, deep red skin glowing in the moonlight. It snorted, chewing voraciously on mangled limbs of the hags, blood and sinew dribbling from its mouth, its weapon lying next to it. A large black iron  _ kanabo _ sat quietly beside the demon. He has never seen an  _ oni _ this crazed with flesh and blood lust before. It jolted upright, sniffing the air and turning its head in Hanzo’s direction, the archer quietly hiding himself behind a thick tree trunk.

“I know you're here.”

Hanzo blinked, completely baffled that the  _ oni _ was talking so clearly, bright yellow eyes flitting about as it rose from its seat.

“The scent of home lingers on you, little one. Why not come out and show yourself so we may talk like civilized kin?”

The archer scoffed quietly. As if he would just present himself to the open to a demon and talk, of all things. The  _ oni _ grabbed its kanabo, giving it a swift swing in the air to have it light up, orange flames licking against the black metal surface. Suddenly, a thick fog surrounded the area, the demon disappearing within it. Hanzo stood up straight, holding Stormbow close to him. 

“Found you.”

Hanzo felt a sudden heat above him, looking up to see the  _ oni _ in the tree, its yellow eyes filled with blood lust. With a roar, it came crashing down with its  _ kanabo _ , the ground quaking and being set aflame as the demon chuckled. Hanzo rolled out of the way and drew an arrow, firing it towards the  _ oni’s _ eye, the demon merely catch it with its gigantic hand. It canted its head with a chuckle, snapping the arrow in its hand. 

“Young master Hanzo Shimada; it has been quite some time, no? The elders have been most disappointed in you and your father—but more specifically that little sparrow of a brother of yours.”

“The elders are dead.” Hanzo fired another arrow, twisting it slightly so that it would arc instead of flying straight. It landed deep into the  _ oni’s _ shoulder but did not seem to affect the demon in any way. 

“A shame. But seeing that I no longer have any masters, I am no longer bound to their petty words.” It hefted up its weapon to rest on its shoulder, eyes narrowing. “Elder Tanaka said not to harm you, young master, but seeing that he is slain, there is no need to heed his commands.”

The  _ oni _ huffed, eyes flicking to the side as a flash of green came towards it. It held up its mace to block Genji’s assault, the younger man’s eye filled with rage. The ninja back flipped away as the  _ oni _ swung at him, flinching as gunshots peppered it from another direction. Hanzo glanced over to see McCree hiding behind several trees, constantly moving and reloading his shots. With a bellow, the  _ oni _ slammed its  _ kanabo _ into the ground, cracking it and spewing forth lava, burning away most of the land. Genji landed carefully next to his brother, still engulfed in a green light that danced around him like flames. His haggard breathing made Hanzo grab him by the scarf and tug him back when he was about to advance. 

_ “What the hell are you doing?” _ Genji shouted, green eyes flaring.

_ “You need to stop using  _ Ryu-Ichimonji _ like this—you are weakening yourself with that parasite.” _ His brother barked back. 

_ “Then what do you suggest? Our weapons are not doing anything to this  _ oni _. This demon is different from the ones back home; it has adapted and learned throughout the years. It's not stupid like the ones we’ve hunted before!” _

_ “Use Haku. I will distract it.” _ Hanzo said, clicking Stormbow into its blade form and rushing back into the fray. Genji faltered, wanting to stop his brother but felt the weight of Haku’s talisman against his chest, thrumming softly. 

_ You hesitate, sparrow. _

Genji closed his eyes, sliding his sword back into its sheath. 

_ Do you not trust me? Your own guardian spirit? _

He let out a shuddering sigh through his nostrils, taking out the worn out talisman. The parchment was wrinkled and covered with speckles of dirt and water stains, but the ink still stood out proud and strong. Genji was never a good student when it came to summoning—too ignorant to pay attention when he was a natural at the blade. Why rely on a spirit when you can protect yourself? 

_ Do not summon an ancient beast you do not know how to control, young sparrow. _

A loud clattering sound made the ninja look up, seeing Hanzo being battered away by the  _ oni _ . His brother grunted, quickly getting up before shooting him a glance that said ‘what are you waiting for?’ McCree helped him up, having to back away when the demon smashed the mace down between them. Genji held up the paper straight, an apprehensive expression on his face while looking at the bold brush strokes of Haku’s form. Ice began to encase his hand.

 

///

 

Jack blinked as a hooded child opened the door, timidly grasping onto the gilded knob like a safety net. The boy stepped towards the bed, tiny footsteps pattering against the floor as he set a small satchel on the bed. 

“Zenyatta told me to give this to you.” He nudged the brown leather bag to the man. Jack let out a small noise of affirmation, taking the satchel into hand and carding through its contents. Several blood vials clinked against one another, along with silver bullets jingling around. He looked up at the child, the latter wringing his small fingers together. 

Jack never understood why he always ended up in the Hunter’s Dream after dying—specifically in  _ this _ room. His room. There were so many questions swimming in his head when he first woke up in this realm: why did it take after the Watch? Why does it exist in the first place? But after a while, he became desensitized by death and waking up in this dream. How many times has he died already? Ten? More? Less? He couldn't remember. 

“You were sleeping for a long time.” The child said, squirming where he stood, picking at the hem of his cloak. Jack sighed and picked up the kid from under their armpit, hoisting them up onto the bed and settling the child down besides him. This child confused him the most out of all the bizarre things in the Dream. Zenyatta, the doll, mentioned to Jack briefly that the child holds significance to the Dream and its owner, but did not explain why. 

_ “Who is the owner of the Dream?” _ Jack asked one time after being beaten to death by an army of deranged townspeople and watchmen. The doll hummed, golden gilded orbs falling up and down with a chime, rotating slowly around him. 

_ “In time, you will find out.” _

“Jack?” A tugging motion on his sleeve pulled him back to reality, blinking and looking down at the child. Their face was obscured by the shadow of their hood, only tan skin peeking from beneath. The Old Hunter shook his head. “What happened?”

Jack was quiet, remembering how he was in the grand cathedral, looking for clues on the incident of the Hunter’s Watch. Many Hunters visited the cathedral to seek guidance from the old gods; some seeking solace with the kind words of the priests and nuns. He walked towards the altar that held the large deformed skull of the first vicar, peering into the dark eye sockets as if it would tell him anything. Then, he heard a whisper. A voice that spoke in a strange. It familiar language—it spoke to his blood. He could feel the beast within him burst forth, hearing the terrified screams of two young hunters inside the cathedral. The girl’s brown eyes were wide with fear as the boy beside her dragged her away. Restraining himself to chase after them was difficult—it is in his cursed blood to feast on the weak, to give chase to prey running away. Jack watched them quickly descend the cathedral stairs, slinking his back towards the altar. Crows cawing caught his attention, seeing a swirling black mist appearing in the middle of the floor, a shadowy figure appearing. Jack growled as the figure approached, grabbing onto their trick weapon and clicking it into place, the beast’s eyes behind the bandages widening to see the Burial Blade—Gabriel’s weapon. 

“Reaper.” The boy said quietly. “You saw the Reaper.”

Jack huffed out a chuckle. “I guess I did. Anyways. Tell the doll I said thanks.” He patted the satchel of ammunition and vials, getting off the bed. 

“You should be more careful, Jack.” The child said, walking towards the door and carefully opening it so it wouldn't make a sound. A lone brown eye shone under the hood. “There's going to be a day where you won't end up in the Dream.”

 

///

 

He watched Jack mutter something under his breath before teleporting away in a flurry of grey dust, closing the door behind him with a soft click. Voices from the room across the hall were muted by the thick walls, the child quickly striding for the last door. He opened and closed it in one swift motion, pulling back the hood and walking up towards the secondary door that was cracked open. With a grunt, the child hefted himself onto the bed, tiny feet wriggling to have a foot onto something. The breathing mound of white fabric expanded and decreased steadily, a snore being heard underneath. He patted the lump several times. 

“Papaaa, get up.” The lump groaned, tossing around with a sigh. “Papaaaaa.” He bapped the mound again repeatedly with tiny hands. A deep sigh.

“What is it?”

“I'm bored. And those people are still here.” The blankets shifted as the man sat up, a hand running through black and silver curls. Gabriel looked over at the child, blinking red eyes at him before messing up his brown hair. A giggle erupted from the child. “One of them had a really cool hat! And a metal arm!”

Gabriel froze, brows knitting together. Fuck. 

“He didn't see you, did he?”

“Mmm no. You always tell me to stay away from the Hunters that come into the Dream. They went into my room, so I hid in Dad’s room when you dropped him off.” He was picking at the cloak again, flinging away a pill bug of lint. Gabriel let out a quiet sigh of relief. “He has your gun though.”

“Yeah. I know.” The child pouted. 

“I thought you were giving that to me!” He whined. Gabriel hoisted the child up onto his lap, pulling his cheek teasingly. 

“I'll get you a better one, okay Jesse?” Jesse’s face brightened up almost immediately, throwing his arms around Gabriel’s neck and thanking him profusely. “Go get some rest, okay?”

“But I'm not tired.” Jesse said before stifling a small yawn, almost squealing when Gabriel suddenly rolled him up into a burrito blanket in one swift move. He wriggled around like a cocoon, giving up when the man placed a kiss on the child’s forehead. Jesse let out a defeated noise, frown apparent on his face while snuggling against the blankets and hiding his nose beneath the sheets, closing his eyes. “G’night Pa.”

“Good night, Jesse.” He said softly, sweeping a lone bang of hair away from the child’s eyes. Gabriel waited several minutes until there was a steady sound of breathing, Jesse already lulled into a deep sleep. He heard footsteps outside and walked towards the door, cracking it open slightly to see several Hunters going down the stairs—the one with a familiar hat turning slightly. Jesse McCree—the real Jesse. Not some figment illusion created by his mind to cope with the loss of that day. He closed the door before McCree got a good look at him, brows furrowing. The man’s left arm was made of metal and seemed to be fully repaired thanks to the doll downstairs. What did that boy do this time?

_ “‘M leaving.” _

_ Gabriel stopped sifting through his paperwork and looked up from his desk to see McCree standing there, complete in his Hunter gear and a medium sized bag slung over his shoulder. There was a forlorn look on his face. _

_ “What?” _

_ “I said I'm leaving. I don't like where any of this is going. Both you and Jack have been arguing day and night about how the Church is some corrupt bullshit. It's tiring; I'm tired of hearing all of it. Not only that, but seein’ the other Hunters just…” he shook his head. “I saw Carmen and Wallace kill a family because they thought they had the scourge. Took blood samples and gave it to Angie. She said there wasn't anything.” _

_ Gabriel stared passively at him, waiting to see if the young hunter was done.  _

_ “So yeah. I call quits.” McCree said after a shaky sigh.  _

_ “Good.” _

_ “Good?” He sounded offended, as if he wanted Gabriel to tell him to stay. “That's all you're going to say?” _

_ “If you want to leave by your own accord, then by all means.” Gabriel said before looking back down at his paperwork, a quill going for the ink well. McCree didn't say anything for what seemed like an eternity, just standing there staring at the floor, a grimace on his face. The kid has good intuition—leaving the Watch now is the best choice he could make to get away from what ominous omen has befell upon their organization. Too much suspicious play being kept under the table. Sure, he didn't actually want Jesse to leave; he's like a son to Gabriel—and he still IS his child. A parent only wants the best for their children, and for Gabriel, he wants McCree to be safe. “Will that be all, McCree?” _

_ “…Yeah.” He said quietly. “Yeah.” _

_ “Dismissed.” The commander said nonchalantly, eyes still on the paperwork in front of him. He heard footsteps retreated slowly, the door opening before McCree turned around. Gabriel glanced up to see the Hunter opening his mouth to say something, only to screw it shut and head out of the room with a small click of the door. _

Gabriel huffed at the memory, running a calloused hand through his hair. First finding Jack in the forest and now Jesse appearing in the Dream. The gods must really hate him right now. He looked out of the window to see the shadowy silhouette of a large creature with a long set of thick tendrils flowing like hair, rib cage protruding out from its skeletal form as its head swiveled towards the man. A voice whispered in Gabriel's mind.

_ My child. _

 

///

 

Genji stared in horror as Haku came forth from the talisman, leaping into the fray with wild eyes, creating a flurry of snow around the area, immediately going for whatever was moving within its line of sight. Hanzo jumped away from the wolf’s maw trying to clamp down on him. He succeeded in summoning the Winter Wolf—but he does not know how to control it. 

“How foolish. The young sparrow does not even know how to control those he summons.” The  _ oni _ said with a chuckle, burning away the snow with its  _ kanabo _ . Two powerful demons on the field. Nobody experienced enough to kill them. Genji gave Hanzo a worried glance, pleading with his eyes on what to do. Haku leapt towards the  _ oni _ , attacking it viciously by biting down hard on its arm wielding the mace, the three Hunters seeing it as an opportunity to attack the red demon. Hearing the loud gunshot, the white wolf turned around and glared at McCree, rushing towards him and swiping an icy paw at the Hunter, causing him to slam into the depths of the thickets, the breath knocked out of him. 

_ Concentrate. Do not let the Winter Wolf run wild. Doing so merely reduces it to a beast. _

Genji stared hard at the Wolf as it stalked the thickets for McCree, trying to communicate with the ancient spirit.

_ What do you remember of the Winter Wolf? _

Genji relaxed his posture, becoming loose as the voice within guided him.

“Calm. Majestic. A protector.” He said quietly.

_ Good. Try to remember the spirit as what it once was. Do not see it as another beast. _

Haku’s demeanor halted, the Wolf blinking several times, shaking its head. It looked down to see McCree’s prone body at the foot of a tree, the gunslinger completely knocked out. The wolf turned around with a growl, running for the  _ oni _ , only to be batted away by the metal mace. A high pitched whine escaped from the wolf, Haku slowly getting up. Hanzo knocked an arrow and aimed for the demon’s eyes, letting loose two arrows in quick succession. Both missed their mark by a small margin due to the demon moving slightly, the  _ oni _ waving its  _ kanabo _ to create a mist and disappearing. A loud cry was heard through the thick fog, Genji doubling over as he  _ felt _ the immense pain of Haku being struck with a fatal blow, looking down at his hand to see the ice melting and the talisman reverting back to its form with the wolf on its surface.

Hanzo looked around cautiously, Storm Bow clicking to its blade form. The mist obscured most of his vision, relying on sound to locate the demon. Before he could even react, a low growl was heard behind him, large black claws encasing the archer and pulling him back as the  _ oni _ slammed down where Hanzo once stood. A static current coursed through the air, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand as Hanzo turned around to see a large beast before him. Hanzo quickly pointed an arrow at the large beast—it was unlike anything he has ever seen before. Its black fur coiled and moved around as if wind constantly swept through it, dancing about with the electricity crackling around it. Red eyes locked onto the archer’s, a loud growl emitting from the beast before it launched itself towards him. He fired the arrow, ducking down as the beast jumped over him and towards the  _ oni _ , swatting it away with its large clawed hand as if it were a fly. The demon was sent pummeling into several trees, growling a warning before the black beast charged at it once more, pouncing on top of the  _ oni  _ and voraciously tearing at its skin vehemently. Blood painted the grass and leaves around them as the demon tried to thrash about, trying to get the beast off of it, but it would not budge even when it burned the beast’s sides with an anomaly of fire magic. Hanzo and Genji stared as the beast let out haggard breaths once the  _ oni _ was silenced into a bloody pulp, flinching as red eyes turned towards them suddenly. Hanzo hid Genji behind him out of instinct, gripping tightly on Storm Bow’s blade. The beast slowly got off the demon’s corpse, treading carefully towards the brother until it was a few feet away, stopping and lowering its head. A sign of submission.

_ “Anija…this beast. It protected us.” _ Genji murmured towards his brother.  _ “I don’t think it means any harm.” _

_ “Beasts are still beasts. We will not fall for its ploy.” _ The elder brother replied with a hiss, eyes still watching warily at the large monstrosity. It blinked at him, canting its head to the side—almost like a dog waiting for a command. Hanzo then realized something.

What happened to McCree?

_ “Genji, go see where McCree is.” _ He whispered to the younger. The ninja nodded, inching towards the woods until the beast snorted, taking notice of his movement. He froze momentarily, both locking eyes on one another. Nobody moved.  _ “Go. If it attacks, I will distract it. Make sure the gunslinger gets back to the chapel.” _ Genji gave him a hesitant nod, flicking his gaze towards the large beast momentarily before bolting for the woods in the direction where McCree was last seen. The beast immediately gave chase, a roar escaping from it. Despite its large size, the beast ran at an alarming speed, skidding to a stop when Hanzo got in its path. He slashed at the beast’s arm, the monster flinching back. Its face is not discernable from all the hair wavering in front of it; shaggy dark fur coiling about from the wind it was creating around it, like some kind of aura. The archer drew out Haru’s talisman, summoning the wolf from the worn out paper in a flurry of fiery petal-like flecks. Haru turned towards Hanzo.

_ “It has been quite some time, young master. My condolences to your mother; she was a strong and respectable woman. To tame an ancient spirit as myself was an admirable feat. I will honor her last wishes in protecting her children.”  _ The wolf turned towards the beast, baring its fangs. It leapt towards the beast, jaws open and biting down on its shoulder, the two creating a thunderous sound of large bodies crashing into the earth, kicking up dirt and dust.

Focus; do not let your mind wander, Hanzo thought to himself as he switched his trick weapon over to its bow form, raising another silver arrow towards the cloud, waiting for it to disperse. A glint of red through the veil made the archer fire at it, hearing a loud  _ scream. _ The beast doubled over, large clawed hands covering its left eye where the arrow was embedded, blood dribbling out as it fell to its knees. Electricity crackling around it grew more haphazard, the maelstrom of wind circulating around it becoming more powerful, Haru backing up and shielding Hanzo from the gust. As it all died down, Hanzo’s blood ran cold when he saw McCree on his knees, an arrow shaft jutting out of his eye socket.

McCree panted for air, gulping down what precious little he could along with the blood building up in his throat. He looked up at Hanzo, a lone red eye staring at him. Anger coiled in Hanzo’s gut.

McCree is a beast.

_ Beasts will always be nothing more than beasts _ — _ a scourge in this world that has no place among the living. Mindless beings that only seek blood. We hunt down these monsters to keep others safe. _

The gunslinger’s body disappeared when the wolf spirit clamped down onto his body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, here's your broken record of me saying sorry for the delay. Midterms are coming up so I'm kinda busy. Just kinda.
> 
> Anywho, I feel like I should pick up the pace instead of prolonging the story even more--gotta get to the goods, y'know what I'm saying? /eyesemoji and fingerguns
> 
> So I apologize if this seems inadequate.
> 
> For clarifications on what happens in this chapter:  
> \- Both Hanzo and Genji are sub-par summoners; Genji more so than his brother.  
> \- Jack was the white beast we saw in earlier chapters; he was brought into the Dream by Gabriel (up to your interpretations on how)  
> \- The child!Jesse that appears in the Dream was made from Gabriel's mind (basically he's not real)  
> \- Gabriel is the 'owner' of the Dream  
> \- McCree is an [abhorrent beast](http://i.imgur.com/WZuW0dR.jpg)


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reunion, truths, and guilt.

He wasn’t expecting him to come back so soon. Gabriel flinched when he heard a scream downstairs, hurrying over to his window to see McCree staggering along the cobblestone pathway to the house. The doll helped the gunslinger proceed up the steps, low voices murmuring on what happened. McCree kept a hand over his left eye, Zenyatta telling him to lower it so he can assess the damage. Gabriel knew there wasn’t any real damage since the Dream would heal them instantaneously—but pain lingering from the Nightmare always made Hunters think that they are still wounded. He stopped at the top of the staircase, glancing down to see the two taking their respective seat.

“How curious—your wound is not properly healing inside the Dream.” Zenyatta said with a disturbed expression, examining McCree’s eye. The doll’s ball-jointed fingers curled, touching softly as the gunslinger’s left pupil were slightly torn and collapsed. McCree turned away.

“Nah, my eye is like that because of the beast blood. Collapsed pupils are ‘signs of the scourge,’ or so the Church says.” He shrugs.

“That does not explain the symbol I saw within your pupil.”

McCree was quiet, fingers curling into a fist. “It's called Deadeye; no clue where it came from but I can't miss with it. Dunno if it should be curse or a blessing—saved me a number of times in a tricky situation but also causes a lot of pain.” The doll hummed. 

“If you do not mind, I am curious on how it works.” Zenyatta folded his hands together, waiting patiently.

“It's like—it's like time slowing down. Everything becomes slower; the colors around me fade away and I just…I guess I just concentrate on getting a good shot. But whenever I use it too much or for too long, there's this sharp pain in my eye, like something is trying to _come_ _out of it_.” The man rolled his shoulders. Zenyatta canted his head. 

“Something trying to come out of your eye?”

“Yeah. It feels weird. Sometimes I think I see shooting stars with it.”

Gabriel’s brows furrowed. Shooting stars? The Hunter never mentioned that before when he found out about Deadeye. Blood dribbled down the boy’s eye one day during training, faltering back as Gabriel stopped the session and steadied him with both hands on his shoulders. Jesse drew his hand back from his eye to see it stained dark red, his breath hitching as he looked up at Gabriel worriedly. Thankfully, Angela’s clinic was not as busy as it is nowadays, the older Hunter rushing Jesse over to the doctor. 

_ “This is a peculiar phenomena. I'm not sure I can pinpoint the source as I will need to study more on this, but Jesse should be fine as long as he does not stress himself with what he has done prior to the hemorrhages.” She glanced over at the boy. “Your checkup is soon, by the way.” _

_ “Aha…no need for that, Angie. I'm right as rain!” _

_ “You were just bleeding out of your eye.” Gabriel said monotonously, arms crossed as he stood nearby like a sentinel. He motioned with his head for the younger to wait outside, Jesse rolling his eyes with an exaggerated sigh, hoping off the table and leaving the room, door clicking shut behind him. They waited several seconds before hearing the faint scuffling of footsteps retreating near the door. Gabriel turned towards Angela.  _

_ “Didn't find anything?” _

_ “ _ Nein _. Nothing but the signs of his beasthood. His pupils are still intact but they are showing signs of collapse. You have been training him, yes?” A nod from the larger man. “Good. Other than that, I do have a theory.” _

_ “Enlighten me.” _

_ “You two were doing target practice prior to this hemorrhage, correct?” Another nod. “Do you know what Jesse was doing before the practice?” _

_ “No, not really. He came back from patrol and we went to do training.” _

_ “Nothing unusual in his reports?” _

_ “You'd have to ask Jack about that. Even then, I doubt he'd share any information with anybody.” _

_ “Where did Jack send him?” _

_ “Upper Cathedral.” _

_ “It's possible that he came in contact with the Great One we’ve kept up there.” Angela said quietly, folding her hands together in her lap, the gentle sunlight shining through the window creating a soft aura around her form. “They call the god Ebrietas _ — _ daughter of the cosmos, born from fragments of the Great Ones.” _

_ “She wasn't born from it; she was called by the augurs.” Gabriel stated, brows furrowing. He remembers being at Byrgenwerth during their secretive training as Hunters, the school originally being built for scholars seeking the Eldritch Truth _ — _ whatever that was. Several scholars began whispering about how they came into contact with a Great One _ — _ eldritch beings that can only be described as gods to the people. Rumors came to truth when Gabriel snuck into a session with the scholars, seeing the large amalgamation of eyes and slimy white flesh raising its head up towards the group. Behind the alien god was a large petrified worm of some sort, a multitude of black eyes staring into the abyss with serrated maw gaping wide open. He heard the place being called The Altar of Despair. Why, Gabriel does not know. “You of all people should know, Ziegler.” _

_ “Although I am in the Choir, I seldom take communion with the other scholars in seeking audience with Ebrietas. What she teaches the scholar is amazing, but at the same time, the human mind cannot take what the Great Ones can give to is; they will surely succumb to madness of the unknown.” She opened her palms to reveal a tiny bluish white slug squirming about. “The augur is enough for now.” Gabriel let out a hum. _

_ “What makes you think Jesse made contact with Ebrietas?” _

_ “Do you remember where the Altar of Despair was within the Ward?” Gabriel shook his head. He usually left the Choir to their own devices now. It was Talon that worried him the most. _

_ “Through the lumenflower garden _ — _ within the orphanage.” _

“Haven't turned in a while.” McCree’s voice brought Gabriel back to the present. He walked closer down the stairs. “Just felt like it was the only choice at the time. Heh. Look where it got me now. If only Reyes could see me now.” The man steeled himself for regret as he descended the stairs, a hand gliding along the polished wooden railing. 

“What'd you do this time,  _ mijo _ ?” Gabriel asked, stopping halfway and seizing up as he saw the immediate recognition in McCree’s eyes, the shaggy hunter standing up and causing the chair to clatter behind him. 

“...Gabe?” McCree walked forward. “You're alive? You're alive.” The metallic hand reached out towards Gabriel, the gunslinger looking as if he is on the verge of tears spilling out of his shiny wet eyes. 

“If you consider this alive.” Gabriel gestured around him. “This place isn't exactly real.”

“But  _ you're _ real, ain'tcha?” Gabriel was quiet, sighing through his nose. 

“It's complicated. Even if I explained it, it still leaves a lot of unanswered questions.” He said. McCree crossed his arms. His eyes narrowed, hips jutted out in a familiar pose that Gabriel remembers the gunslinger mirroring exactly as when he was a child; he remembers seeing McCree crossing his arms and pouting at the man for banning him from going outside when he caught a cold. McCree was a sniveling mess but insistently wanted to go out and do patrol, shoot dummies, or even practice with his beasthunter saif—anything to get out of the house.

“Try me.”

Gabriel let out another sigh, gesturing McCree to take a seat as he himself took a nearby chair and dragged it close to the fireplace, the flames dancing around, causing the shadows to waver back and forth, the old trick weapons glistening in the low light above the mantle. He glanced up to see McCree downright glaring at him, a small pinprick of guilt stabbing him in the chest. “You made the right choice to leave the Watch when you did. Shit was going south so fast that everything was a fucking time bomb; the Church is out of their goddamn minds if they think that the blood can heal everything without consequences.”

“I mean, we knew it had the scourge essence within the blood since Angie did all the testing.” McCree commented. 

“ _ We _ knew but the people didn't. Every time we tried getting word out of what people were really injecting themselves with, all evidence would be erased  _ by the Church _ . They wouldn't even store the files into archive—just burn them and pretended nothing ever happened.” He sighed, running a hand through black and silver. “What really started the cataclysm was the Church trying to disband the Watch. They knew we knew the truth, how the scholars went to the Pthumerian dungeons below the city and found some ‘Eldritch Truth;’ how the scourge is in the healing blood; how they were the ones that poisoned Old Yharnam—” Gabriel leaned back in his seat, intertwining his fingers together on his stomach.

“But the Watch was also tied directly to the Church.”

McCree’s brows furrowed in confusion, thinking about what Reyes is trying to say. “Not sure I understand.”

“It was Jack; he was the High Commander of the Watch under the Church’s legislation. At first, it was an honor to him, being able to sit with the higher ups within the Church—but then he realized how deep he was in. By the time he did, he was wrapped around their fingers like a dog. Jack couldn't disobey the Church and they made sure he stayed in line.”

“So when you guys were arguing—”

“It was because I was trying to persuade him to leave the Watch—and Yharnam. Just to get away from all of the bullshit happening in this cursed city.” Gabriel let out a mirth chuckle. He slouched in his seat, a somber expression on his face. “He told me he wouldn't leave without me because of some stupid promise we made back in Byrgenwerth.”

McCree leaned forward, still listening attentively. “So when the fire happened—that was the Church? People kept saying it was you that started it because you were jealous of Jack being the head honcho of the Watch, but that didn't make a lick of sense to me. I know you,  _ jefe _ , and you're not like that.” Gabriel snorted. 

“We were compromised. People within the Watch were extorted by the Church and plotted to get rid of  _ me _ specifically. They did a pretty good job, I'm not going to lie;  but they forgot one little detail about us.” There was a red twinkle in his eyes. McCree shivered. Red eyes.

“We’re beasts.” He said carefully, factually. “Byrgenwerth was split into several factions, much like how the Church was. There were the scholars that made up the majority of the school—they later became the Choir and the School of Talon. And there was a ‘secret’ group that Jack and I were in.”

McCree tilted his head slightly in confusion. He has never heard of this before, only knowing that the two men met at Byrgenwerth before forming the Watch. “It didn't have a name, but it was...an experiment that led us to what we are today: two of the oldest Vicars in Yharnam.” Gabriel grew quiet, looking down at his hands, rotating a ring on his finger. “It was a lot of confidentiality; we don't know how either of us look as beasts. Or, well, shit. I still don't know what Jack looks like as a beast. I only showed my form once to him but he was unconscious, knocked out from debris falling on top of him during the fire.”

“You guys survived because you turned and protected him.” McCree said in awe. “But then you left him.”

“I left him because I'm just asking for trouble. Plus, I'm old, Jesse; even though we have a good amount of control of the beast within us, we can't control it completely.” McCree fell silent, sitting back and letting out a low whistle, trying to take in everything Reyes has told him. Things were starting to make sense but there was one thing that still stood out to the gunslinger.

“But this Hunt and the Dream—”

“Is my doing.”

 

///

 

Hanzo was jerked back to reality when he felt a hand grabbing his shoulder harshly, turning him around to have a fist colliding to his cheek. He blinked, looking to see Genji glaring at him with burning hatred in his eyes. 

“You killed him.” His brother’s voice was venomous. “How can you do that to someone trying to protect us?” It took Hanzo a brief second to understand what his brother was saying, blinking owlishly before returning to his signature scowl. 

“He was a beast, brother. He should have not been trusted.” Hanzo growled. The archer shoved Genji’s hand away as he tried for another swing. Genji swore at him, the words becoming more and more hateful. 

_ You are worried he will truly hate you. Fear not, for he is your brother. He will never betray you. But you have wounded him deeply.  _

Hanzo closed his eyes, mentally sighing at the voice in his mind. The high priests have told him that the dragons within him became ‘dormant’ after the death of both his mother and father, powerful twin serpents mourning the loss of their kin. Yet the two omnipotent voices would speak to the man every now and then like a tiny spark of subconsciousness. And they were rarely kind.

_ You regret what you have done; your anger causing the wolf to consume the man. A shame. He was an interesting one.  _

Hanzo blinked, brows furrowing in confusion. 

“Was?” He echoed at the air, Genji giving him a quizzical look through his tirade of verbal assaults. “What do you—is he not in the Dream?” 

_ I do believe you have made him doubt himself. _

_ 'Tis not my intention.  _

“Is he in the Dream or not?” The archer snapped at the stagnant air around them, Genji narrowing his eyes. 

“What are they saying—”

_ We cannot sense that man anymore. Even between realms. _

Hanzo blinked. Genji shook him by the arm, calling out to him repeatedly. Did he permanently kill McCree on accident? All Hunters who have died goes to the Dream…right? And why is he so concerned for killing this man? He has killed plenty of people before, some even with no remorse—some who deserved it. His gut gave out a sharp twist, causing the man to nearly double over, a hand over his mouth as bile building up in his throat.

“ _ Anija. _ ” Genji gave him one final shake. “What happened?” The dragons gave out a smug chuff.

_ What makes that man different from those you have slain before? _

_ We know how you act, young master; trying to keep to yourself, hiding your emotions from others. _

_ You lie to yourself and that alone makes you weak.  _ One of the voices snapped coldly, Hanzo letting out a shuddering breath, pushing Genji away noncommittally. 

“I need to go back to the Dream.” He said in a quiet voice, stalking towards the entrance of the forest, a hand rubbing his arm. Genji called out for him, running towards him and keeping his pace. 

“Brother? Is everything alright? I did not mean to say those things to you—I just got caught in the moment because McCree is my friend. Hanzo?” His brother did not reply, merely walking faster. “Hanzo!” Everything became a blur of dark green and navy blue skies, the archer quickly striding out of the forest and towards the lantern outside the gates of Hemwick Charnel Lane. He knelt down and held a hand out towards the iron lamp before feeling multiple hands grabbing his own. Hanzo flinched sharply and nearly fell back as the Messengers grappled onto him, moaning and groaning as gaping toothy maws continued to emit disgruntled sounds. The archer ripped his hand away, glaring daggers at the strange humanoids as they made a shooing motion towards him. 

“It seems they do not want you to enter the Dream.” Genji looked at the Messengers, bewildered by their odd behavior. The younger reached out for the lantern, only to receive the same treatment from the Messengers, irritated groans filling the air around them. They looked at each other, confused and worried. 

“Why will they not let us back within the Dream? Do the Messengers not heed a Hunter’s command?” Hanzo growled at his brother, gesturing at the wrinkled humanoids blocking the lantern with their tiny bodies. 

“How should I know? This is the first time this has happened to me.” Genji exclaimed, walking towards the lantern again and kneeling down. The Messengers gave him a hiss before diving down the inky pool beneath them, the soft purple light snuffing out with a cold rush of wind. “Perhaps we should head back to the chapel? See if the lantern there works?”

“Are they all not linked?” Hanzo asked. Genji shrugged. 

“Honestly, I have no clue. Master Zenyatta never really told me how the lanterns work.” He mused on, scratching the bandages wrapped around his face. Genji blinked at Hanzo’s dubious expression. “What?”

“Who are you and what have you done to my brother?” He said, deadpan. “Since when have you ever called somebody ‘master?’” The two shoved each other with small laughter at the dry joke. 

“Do you remember how I told you that I died and appeared in the Dream? It was Zenyatta who found me and taught me to quell my anger.” The swordsman said carefully. “I will not lie; there were times where the thought of you leaving me behind was intentional. Not for my safety, but for your own gains.” He glanced up to look at Hanzo to see the archer staring at him, the smallest hint of hurt in his eyes. Genji waved his hand dismissively. 

“Genji—”

“Ah, don't worry about it. I don't think like that anymore.” The ninja said. “Zenyatta taught me a lot; opened my mind to a greater extent. Words cannot describe what he has done for me.” There was a smile forming beneath the bandages, eyes crinkling in fondness. His expression soon fell, walking gait slowing down. 

“Is he really dead?”

Hanzo stopped.

“I do not know.” He sighed. “I really don’t know. The dragons said that they could not feel his presence through the realms—between the Nightmare and the Dream.” Genji rolled his shoulder,  _ Ryu-Ichimonji _ clinking against his shoulder guard.

“Were you really that angry that McCree was a beast? He saved us from the  _ oni _ and did not even attack us—”

“He was a beast, Genji; we have been taught that beasts will always be beasts and nothing more.” His brother snapped sharply at the younger. “What makes you think he will not revert back to more primal instincts? Even if he had control then, what makes you think that he wouldn’t turn around and—”

“What’s going on?”

The two brothers turned to see Hana and Lucio standing before them, not noticing that they were back in front of the Grand Cathedral. Hana stood with one hand on her hip and putting her weight on one leg, giving them a look as she waited for a response; the other young Hunter besides her blinking in curiosity before narrowing his eyes towards the elder brother. Hanzo was taken aback on how bruised and bloody he must look right now with all the hits he took from the  _ oni _ just a few moments ago.

“What happened to you?” The younger man asked, walking up to Hanzo and scrutinizing his wounds, murmuring under his breath what sounded like medical terms. “You should head to the chapel so I can treat these. Lessen the chance of infections.”

“And what the hell are you two doing out here?” The four of them swiveled their heads around to see a man garbed in tattered black hunter gear, the insides of his cape a deep maroon color on satin while bandages wrapped around his eyes, a large diagonal scar peeking from beneath across his face. He stood crossed arm, his posture showing that he is waiting for a good explanation. Hana and Lucio looked at each other. 

“Winston told us to investigate around Cathedral Ward. Where have you been,  _ appa _ ? I feel like we haven't seen you around lately.” Hana asked, canting her head. “You should really rest up, old man.” The white haired man huffed out what seemed to be a mix between a sigh and chuckle. 

“Can't rest with all these beasts around. That being said,” he turned towards the brothers. “Most people don't go down Hemwick Charnel. Mind humoring an old Hunter on what you guys were doing down there? Doubt you were heading to Cainhurst.”

“Personal business, Seventy-Six.” Genji said promptly. Hanzo looked at his brother, mouthing ‘seventy-six’ in a questioning manner. “Brother, this is Seventy-Six, an Old Hunter of Yharnam that has allegiance with the Hunter’s Watch.” Seventy-Six nodded in acknowledgement as Hanzo bowed slightly at the man. Strange that this man is named after a number...perhaps it is a call-sign? Or something of that matter. The man then turned towards the younger Hunters, Hanzo half-listening as it sounded like he was scolding at them for reasons unknown. His mind flickered images of McCree covering half his face with an arrow shaft protruding from his eye socket, blood racing down his tan skin. The confused and hurt expression made Hanzo reel back, covering his mouth as he felt bile rising up again, burning his throat. Genji came to his side and asked quietly if he was okay, only receiving a dismissive wave as the group went walking towards Oedon Chapel. Winston looked up from his book, Lena leaning over his large shoulder to read as well. The two younger Hunters went and gave their oral report to the gorilla, Hanzo and Genji catching a few words of how several vortexes were found near the entrance of Yhar’ghul, outside the chapel, and seeing strange shadowy creatures skittering about and disappearing after a while. And then came the dreaded million dollar question. 

“Where's McCree?” Winston asked. Genji and Hanzo froze as the others looked at each other. “Was he not with you two?”

“McCree is—” Genji started, looking aside towards his brother apprehensively. “He's dead.” Lena let out a gasp, covering her mouth; the two younger Hunters looked in shock at the news, eyes wide and afraid. Winston bent his head down solemnly, tugging on his cloaking more closely to his chest. Seventy-Six was the only one that seemed to be unfazed by the news. His lack of reaction made Hanzo glare daggers in his direction. The old Hunter seemed to have noticed, crossing his arms and leaning back onto a nearby pillar, still ‘looking’ at the archer. 

“Was it when you three were in Hemwick Charnel?” Winston asked cautiously. A nod from Genji. Hanzo noticed his brother glancing at him from time to time, wringing his fingers in a nervous tick. The elder brother let out a soft sigh, heading outside the chapel to get some fresh air, hearing the others talk quietly inside about what happened.

_ Why is this death troubling you so much, little one? _

_ Such indecisiveness. _

Hanzo rolled his eyes at the dragons’ bantering in his mind, leaning forward onto the stone railing overlooking the small courtyard of Cathedral Ward. 

“Because he did not deserve to die. Not yet.” Hanzo said quietly to himself, digging out the dark wooden whistle from the depths of his coat and twirling it between his fingers. It thrummed against his fingertips, steadily breathing as if it was alive. 

_ You never truly hated him, did you, young master? _

Hanzo shrugged, still twiddling with the whistle. True, McCree did get on his nerves from time to time with his boisterous antics back then, but the man always had his heart out on his sleeves. He never seemed to be afraid of what to say towards others—perhaps because he never said anything inherently wrong. 

_ “Hey, Hanzo; I've been thinking.” Hanzo looked up from his book to see the young Hunter hunched forward on the table, rolling a round silver pellet along the grains of the wood. “Don’tcha think it's weird how people turn into beasts?” _

_ “How so?” He mumbled quietly, humoring McCree’s question and desire to talk. Genji left with Ana and Fareeha to grab supplies from a nearby stash, leaving the two behind in the studies to their own devices. Which meant doing absolutely nothing for the next two hours. Hanzo took a quick glance at the bandage wrapped around McCree’s head, rusting blood staining near his temple. According to Reyes, McCree was in pursuit of a beast in Central Yharnam, nearly reaching it before being thrown into a competitive game with another hunter that was targeting the same beast. Suffice to say, there was foul play involved. McCree blew a strand of hair out of his face.  _

_ “I mean, humans seem to be the only ones affected by the scourge? At least to a higher extent. There's the crows that hang around Cathedral Ward sometimes but people are the only ones that turn into full fledge beasts.” _

_ “Your point?” Hanzo flipped a page about the Pthumerian civilization. McCree stopped rolling the pellet, letting it slide into a rounded crevice before taking out a flat circular disc shaped stone. There was a strange carving on it that reminded Hanzo of a claw.  _

_ “Maybe it's trying to tell us something. Like we all have beasts inside us.” The brown haired hunter said quietly, eyes fixated on the rune. Hanzo snorted.  _

_ “Don't be ridiculous.” _

He never realized what McCree really meant by that. Footsteps made Hanzo jump back to reality, stashing the whistle away to see Seventy-Six walking towards him. 

“Follow me.” He said gruffly, brushing past the archer, torn tails of his duster flapping in the wind. 

“And why should I?” Hanzo asked, cautious. 

“There's a reason why the Dream is closed off to you. I'm going to show you how to get in.” Seventy-Six said without breaking his stride. The two made their way back to Hemwick Charnel, trekking through the mist-covered wooden area, their footsteps crunching the dried leaves beneath them. Hanzo watched the white haired man continued forward without a word, occasionally holding up a hand to stop the archer from proceeding, a group of hags passing by with pitchforks and torches. Whenever they did have to fight, Hanzo noticed that Seventy-Six killed the hags fast with a thin silver blade, occasionally clicking into the large sheath he carried onto his back, creating a greatsword with ornate decor on the surface. He swung his blade to the side as the body slumped to the ground, cleaning the blood away. 

“Nearly there. One of the witches that still lives here took something from the Watch, which—in turn—affects the Dream. Not sure exactly how unless they had an accomplice within the organization. These witches aren't to be trifled with; there's a reason why an occult of old hags still reside here in Hemwick Charnel.” The old Hunter stood in front of a large iron gate, larger figures lumbered on the other side with giant heavy axes in their hands. “Normally, people would go here to travel to Cainhurst—those days are long gone now with the bridge out of commission.”

“What is at Cainhurst?” Hanzo asked, watching the Hunter kick the lever twice to find that it won't budge. 

“Bad blood.” Seventy-Six said, growling and shooting the lever with his gun, the bullet ricocheting away with a loud ping. He then swung his greatsword at it, loosen the gears and kicking the lever to open the gate. The lumbering axeman came towards them, menacingly before going into a full-on charge, waving the axe above their head. Seventy-Six readied his blade, waiting for the right moment to strike. The axeman’s hooded head was lopped off, flying off to the side in a bloody mess, its flesh squelching as it hit the ground. “Cainhurst became a forbidden place after Yharnam found out about the beast blood, people saying that a scholar from Byrgenwerth escaped the city with vials and brought it to the castle. Corruption. A group of Hunters known as the Executioners tried taking the blood back and slay the queen of the Vilebloods but many didn't come back.”

Seventy-Six stared at a nearby obelisk. 

“A carriage usually stops here if you have the invitation letter from the Vilebloods, but with the bridge out of commission and people going insane, there isn't much use going there.”

“Why would anybody go there to begin with?” Hanzo asked, sniffing disdainfully at the notion. 

“Some people think it's better than living beneath the Church. I don't blame them.” Seventy-Six muttered. “In any case, the thing we’re looking for is up ahead.” A mob of deranged hags came down the hill with a large axeman, angrily raising their weapons at the hunters approaching the small building on the slope. Hanzo took a step back from a swinging rusted rake, drawing his arrow and letting it loose with a quick snap. He backed up more, firing three more arrows before clicking his bow back into its curved sword form, slicing the last of the hags as her blood curdling scream echoed throughout the area. Seventy-Six shot the axeman as he came running towards him, the silver bullet halting the lumbering giant in its tracks, the large great sword stabbing into the bulbous belly of the intimidating guard. He motioned Hanzo to follow him closely, the two descended wooden stairs, the planks creaking beneath their weight. A large rectangular room sat before them with several wooden ramparts placed here and there, bloody bags scattered on the side and hook dangling precariously from the roof made Hanzo wonder what this building served as. Pools of black ichor and red light began to bubble up, the familiar ragged figures of the Mad Ones clawing their way up from the shadowy pits made both Hunters recoil back. 

“Over there.” Seventy-Six growled. Hanzo looked up to see a small hunched over figure near one of the bags—a plethora of eyeballs covering its form. “The Witch of Hemwick.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I just came back from finals hell, so please excuse my tardiness.
> 
> There's actually two chapters in queue, one of them being a filler chapter that's basically an R76 flashback during their time in Byrgenwerth (equivalent of SEP). These upcoming chapters aren't really all that great, mainly because I was focusing more on schoolwork and I type this fic very late into the night. Not only that, but some Bloodborne lore is still muddled a bit, so I'm just playing around with what theories I know and mixing it up a bit. So forgive me if it's not really up to par compared to earlier chapters.
> 
> I'm also going to apologize in advance for any ooc-ness. Just--y'know. This is all kinda new to me.
> 
> Also, I'm going to be tabling at AnimeExpo this year, so I gotta get ready for that ahaha;;;; I'm terrified.
> 
> Thanks for reading and kudos always help! The next two chapters should be coming out soon (if I don't end up rewriting them as per usual).


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just two young Hunters being bros.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blatant R76 chapter. This chapter isn't *super* important and can be considered a filler (it's not very detailed because I didn't want the whole thing to get out of hand), but does hold some, uh, hints towards future chapters.
> 
> Winks.

“Look. It's the new guy.” Several voices around chattered at the long mahogany table, oil lamps creating a warm dim glow that flickered every now and then, the shadows dancing around.

Gabriel looked up from his book, glasses slipping from the bridge of his nose before adjusting it to see a blond young man following one of the professors around the lecture hall of Byrgenwerth. He was slightly lanky in stature, expression filled with curiosity and wonder. What made Gabriel curious was the blade he carried on his back. The greatsword looked almost rusty, the edges chipped and a dirty string of spun cloth wrapped around the hilt of the blade. What kind of idiot would use such a worn out weapon to hunt beasts?

“Ah, here are some of your fellow colleagues that you will be working with, starting today.” The professor gestured towards the group at the table. The blond recruit gave them a smile and small bow. “There's Samuel, Karl, Clara, and—I wasn't expecting to see you in the study hall today, Gabriel.”

“What? A guy can't read?” He shot back, perusing his book on certain beasts again. The professor gave a awkward cough as the others at the table chuckled, even the recruit turning slightly to the side to hide a smile. 

“A-anyways. This is John Morrison. He is a new Hunter at the academy and will be in Reyes’s group for the time being. Mind you lot that this young man has proven to be very resourceful in combat. I expect great results from your group, Commander Reyes.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved the professor off, not even batting an eye at the two. “I'll decide if he's good or not.” A sigh escaped from the man before he told Morrison to mingle with the others to get to know them better. He nodded and turned towards the group again. 

“So. John?” Clara was the first to speak up, leaning forward and giving the young man a mischievous smile. Oh boy, here we go. 

“Actually, I prefer Jack.” He smiled meekly.

Clara scooted over, giving him room between her and Gabriel. “Sooo…what brings you to our lovely dismal city of Yharnam?”

“Heard people were recruiting Hunters for the city. Thought to myself, ‘why not,’ and left home. Parents don't seem to mind watching over the plants.”

“Wait. Plants? You're a farm boy?” Samuel stifled a laugh. Gabriel let out an amused huff, quietly. A farm boy. Jack turned slightly pink in the cheeks, blue eyes glaring at them. 

“What? No. I'm from another city across the country. What kind of assumption was that? Just because I said ‘plants,’ doesn’t mean crops.”

“Ha! I like him.” Clara laughed. 

“We'll see if he's actually good in the fields.” Gabriel shut the book closed, finally looking at Jack in the eyes. “Try to keep up with the pack, farm boy.” Jack shot him a glare. 

“Yes _sir_.”

 

///

 

Jack was asleep at the study table, as per usual when Gabriel passed by, the blond tuckered out on the pile of books around him. Lectures and training took up the majority of their days at Byrgenwerth, the two spending most of their time either in their rooms or in the study hall with the other Hunters. That or suffering from the blood vials the scholars gave them. ‘Enhancements,’ or so the scholars say. Gabriel walked up to Jack’s sleeping body, giving him a nudge. 

“Hey. Wake up. You're drooling all over the books.”

“Mmm…no.” Jack blindly swatted Gabriel’s hand away, curling up even closer and shuffling the papers around him. 

“You do realize we have training in fifteen minutes, right?” Jack grumbled, burying himself deeper into his papers and jacket. “Jack.”

“Nooo…” The blond whined as Gabriel started to drag the chair away from the table, picking up the man with ease. “Gabe, put me down.” Jack said suddenly with a hint of anxiety in his voice, flailing his limbs about before it became more sporadic. Gabriel cautiously put the man down as Jack doubled over and heaved out a staccato of dry coughs. 

“Shit—you okay? Need to see the doctors?” Gabriel asked, a worried hand hovering over the other’s shoulder. 

“No I'm just,” Jack inhaled deeply. “I'm just really tired. The special training sessions they scheduled really messed up my sleep.” Every once a week, the scholars would take each individual Hunter and have a private session to see how they are doing in Byrgenwerth. The sessions can range from merely talking to fighting caged beasts that were previously going to be used for experiments but were faulty in some scientific sense that Gabriel didn't bother to decipher. Then, there were sessions that were classified; where Hunters would meet up with their assigned scholar in the basement of the academy. None of the other Hunters can share what they experience, less they find themselves either dead by the next morning or turned into test subjects themselves. At least, those are the rumors. 

“You want to head back then?”

“No. I'll go to training.” Jack breathed deeply again, straightening himself out with a smile. 

Training went well until the last five minutes. 

Gabriel took front as a beast went charge towards his group, raising a shotgun as it leapt towards them with open maw. He shot once, the beast crumpling down onto the stone floor in a pool of blood, Clara shouting that five other beasts are heading their way. Samuel and Karl held onto their trick weapons closely, keeping an eye out as the fog created by generic incense thickened in the room. 

“Stay close. The last thing we need is to split up with no line of sight.” Gabriel said calmly. 

“Understood.”

Jack tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing into the fog. “There's…two to our right, one on the left, one behind…” A scream erupted from the group as Karl was suddenly dragged away into the depths of the fog, his weapons clattering to the ground as the remaining Hunters turned to see nothing, only hearing the distant growls and panting of the beasts. 

“Shit. Clara, watch our six; Samuel, on our three o'clock position; Jack, keep an eye out on our nine o'clock.”

“Right.” Samuel nodded, drawing out his pistol. 

“Sir. We’re sitting ducks out here. Any plans of action?” Clara asked, getting antsy as the beasts haven't made their moves yet. 

“Focus on the targets to our right first; then behind. These beasts like to flank us, so be on your toes.” Gabriel said. He stowed away his shotgun and took out his trick weapon, clicking the blade into place to create a scythe. With a quick swipe ahead of them, the fog moved, a glint of white appearing to their right. Samuel immediately closed the gap and slashed the beast’s face ahead, jumping back to the group with several rounds going off. Clara fired off several rounds when she heard claws scraping closer to the group, missing all her shots in sheer panic as the beast leapt up from the mist, pouncing onto her. Chaos erupted as all the beasts began to attack, creating a frenzied clash again the Hunters. Jack slashed away the beast on Clara, its head being lopped off and rolling away before another clamped down on her leg and dragged her away.

Shit. 

So far, Jack only heard four of them; two were slain and the other two continued to circle around them. He clicked his tongue before holding his blade out, taking a deep breath before swiping his hand over the ragged metal. An ocean green glow danced along where his hand met the blade, gliding down and creating a large glowing greatsword that he swung with enough force to get rid of most of the fog around them. Gabriel went in and took out the beast closest to them while Samuel shot the other repeatedly until it stilled into a bloody mess. 

“I think that's all of them.” Samuel said in astonishment, relaxing from the fight. “Hope the others are—” A giant maw clamped down onto Samuel’s shoulder from above, the beast tossing him around like a rag doll before throwing him aside in a bloody ribbon, his body hitting the walls with a loud thud. Gabriel quickly kicked Jack away as the beast lashed out with its claws, the wolf-like face hungry with bloodlust. A growl escaped from Jack, blue eyes flaring before shaking his head. 

“Stop the training.” A voice said loudly, the beast letting out a high pitched whimper, cowering back as the fog dissipated, several scholars standing to the side of the room. All of them held out their firearms at the remaining Hunters and the beast in the middle of the room. Gabriel straightened out, glaring at them as Jack continued to growl quietly, holding his head with a hand. Brown eyes flickered to him.

“You doing okay?” A nod. 

“Just a headache.”

“Morrison. Report to the medical wing as soon as possible.” One of the scholars said promptly. “Commander Reyes; I expected better from your group, but it seems that they are still untrained to certain circumstances. There were five targets in this session, Morrison calling all but one out correctly. The last target was attached to the ceiling; beasts often time cling to structures in order to ambush their prey. Being wary of your surroundings is key to your group's survival.”

“Noted.” He gritted the word out. 

“We will be discharging Hunters Clara, Samuel, and Karl from the squad. They only seem to be hindering yours and Morrison’s talents in beast hunting.” The scholar said resolutely, tapping a fingernail onto the clipboard in front of her. 

“No.” Gabriel growled firmly. “You can critique me all you want, but you aren't in charge of my team.”

“Don’t make this harder on yourself, Reyes.” The scholar said calmly. “The Provest’s words are sound.”

“The Provest can shove that big hat of his up his—” Gabriel felt a hand on his shoulder, Jack pulling him back and apologizing to the scholar on his behalf. The white robed woman let out a small sigh motioning Jack to follow her out of the training room, Gabriel seeing the rest of team being escorted out in gurneys. Samuel looked terrible—Gabriel wouldn't be surprised if they took him out of Byrgenwerth entirely. 

“I can tell that you're worried, but I do think it's best that the others leave the group. Hunters often work in pairs to begin with.” A voice said next to him. Gabriel sighed. A smaller woman with sleek black hair stood beside him, arms crossed as golden brown eyes flickered at him. “At least you will be able to spend more time with Jack.”

“Fuck off, Ana.” She grinned before her expression went neutral again. 

“Keep an eye out for him though, Gabriel. There's a reason why they stopped training this early.”

“Aside from being assholes?” He scoffed, receiving a playful jab from the woman.

 

///

 

Jack winced as they plunged the needle into his arm, letting the contents of the syringe flow into his veins with a sickening cold feel to it. After a few seconds, the nurse slipped the needle away, quickly covering it with a small piece of gauze and wrapping his arm up. He instinctively rubbed the area, feeling it throb slightly under his touch. The nurse gave him a small smile, sitting across from him while writing on a piece of paper nonchalantly. 

“I thought my checkup isn't until the end of the week.” Jack said quietly. The nurse looked up, masked blindfold obscuring half her face. Her smile remained but looked somber. 

“Several scholars have told me that they saw you inhibiting symptoms of beasthood during your training session.” She responded in a soft voice. “The sounds that we use to halt the training affected you as well, no?”

“Maybe…a little.” Jack scratched the back of his head, letting his hand rest against the nape. She sat back, handing him the clipboard to reveal all the notes she took on him. Jack knew this was breaking protocols, but Nadine was a tricky one; her quiet and calm demeanor made people trust her without question, skilled in medicine and anatomy of beasts. She is a valuable asset to the Byrgenwerth scholars that everybody knew the Provest would not lose so easily. His eyes scanned the paper.

“John ‘Jack’ Morrison, 22. Beast form resembles that of a large white wolf with long fur and wooden horns protruding from temples. Strong hind legs. Has heightened senses and mobility; noticeable lack of bloodlust. Shown to be aggressive when stressed.” He flipped the page. “Has reckless tendencies in charging in without thinking. Shows proficiency in the arcane (possibly due to lineage?); good compatibility with Reyes and Amari.”

Nadine hummed. “I gave you a strong suppression for your beasthood; that should stop it from getting out of control due to your…emotions.”

Jack handed back the clipboard, not looking at the doctor as she took it back without a word. “Nadine. Why…why aren't we allowed to tell the others about our beast form? Wouldn't it be better to tell our teammates what we are to avoid confusion?”

“Because you are all Hunters in the end; it is your instinct to kill all beasts within sight. This program, Project Beast, is an experimentation that you Hunters volunteered for to become sentient beasts with control. It is meant to protect the populace of Yharnam but, to be frankly honest, I doubt it will work. The moment someone finds out what kind of beast you are, human emotions get in the way.” She paused. “What if Samuel saw you as a beast? Karl? Clara? Amari? Even Reyes? If they knew it was you, would they take down a comrade so easily? Or will your beasthood take control and you end up harming them?”

Jack looked to the side. He couldn't imagine hurting his friends in the academy. The beasts he has seen before that wandered around the city at night were gnarled and hungry, always going for the poor without hesitation. It was only until  one night when Jack was only ten and came face to face with his first beast, a large dog-like creature with bright blue eyes, sandy blond fur coiling about as he backed up against the shed door. His father told him that beasts do not often travel close to society but there are some that thrives from the liveliness of humans. A whimper escaped from the child as the beast’s jaws opened, leaning in closer to him. What he did not expect was a distorted growl next to his ear. 

_ “Run.” _

Jack sprinted as fast as he could back to the house, forgoing how loud he slammed the door shut, hiccuping back tears in the dead of the night as his parents came running down the stairs, asking what was wrong. The beast never attacked him—it told him to run. He never met beasts that could speak, let alone abstain from human blood. A few nights later, when young Jack was out and about stargazing, he saw the beast again. Fear seized the boy where he sat against the large birch tree, watching the wolf beast meander up to him. 

_“You're a curious one. Something old sings in your blood.”_ The beast said.

_“You're not going to eat me?”_ Jack dumbly asked in a quiet voice, trying to press himself further into the base of the tree, blue eyes wide with fear. 

_ “Child, the old blood that sings within you is too precious to feast upon. You think us beasts are mindless creatures? We used to be human too, you know.” _

_ “Then how did you turn into a beast? All the beasts my mom and dad told me about eat people.” _

The sandy blond beast hummed, lying down next to the boy while resting its head on its paws. Jack fought the urge to pet the beast’s head like a giant shepherding dog. _“I do not remember how I changed—only that it was painful. But as I said before: we were once human. There is little humanity left in some beasts that allows them to think coherently. At least, for the time being.”_

_ “Do you remember where you're from?” _

_“I do. I used to live here.”_ Jack stilled. _“Your mother and father grown up quite a bit, those hard workers. You as well, Jack.”_

He never found out who the beast once was in their past life. 

Nadine let out a deep sigh. “Morrison. What the Church is going to do to you in the next few days is out of my control, but don't lose yourself to whatever happens.”

Jack didn't understand what the scholar meant until he found himself face to face against Gabriel in the training grounds below the academy. He was in his beastial form, growling and taking hesitant steps back as Gabriel glowered at him, clicking his trick weapon into place and taking steps forward. The Hunter lunged towards Jack, unaware that the beast he is attacking is his friend. Jack let out a small yelp, jumping back and dodging all his attacks. Gabriel was getting agitated and annoyed that the beast did nothing but evade his attacks, drawing out his firearm while snapping his scythe away into a curve blade. He took a shot towards Jack’s horns, snapping a segment off and rushing towards the beast’s arm, slashing at it before Jack can pull it away. Jack let out an echoing howl, doubling over his maimed arm and scampering into the corner of the large room, whimpering. He caught the brief expression on Gabriel’s face, seeing surprise turning into doubt, turning into resolve as he pointed the gun towards him again. 

 

///

 

Gabriel hasn't seen Jack in a while, passing by his room every day to not even see the door cracked open. He tried knocking several times but to no avail. It was only until he came back from a long session in the study halls did he see the familiar short blond hair gleaming from the moonlit windows walking down the hall. 

“Jack?” Gabriel called out, quickening his pace towards the man. He saw Jack jolt slightly before turning around, hand halfway reaching for his door. His other arm was tucked away in a sling. Gabriel’s brows furrowed. “Where have you been for the past week? Haven't seen you anywhere…and what the hell happened to your arm?” 

Jack lifted his limp right arm slightly with a small smile. “Oh, this? One of the sessions got pretty rough and the doctors told me to let it heal before continuing with training.”

“So you've been holed up in your room this entire week?” The shifting light outside made Gabriel freeze up as he saw a clearer picture of how bruised up Jack looked. His lip was cut and a large gash was barely hidden by his hairline, old crusty blood sprinkled in his blond hair. 

“More or less. Only go out every now and then to stretch my legs, eat, or go to the bathroom.” He laughed. “Why? You miss me? Clara and Karl not keeping you busy?” Samuel was discharged after the horrific training incident. 

“None of them can really keep up with us, you know that. They'll take commands but their execution still needs work.” Gabriel rolled his eyes and punched the man jokingly on the shoulder. “But glad to see you're doing well, Blondie.”

“They want me to do my session soon but,” he looked at his arm. “I don't know if I can with this mess.”

“Hey. Just take it easy, alright? I'm sure Amari and I can pull a few strings to allow you some time to heal.”

“Thanks Gabe.”

That wasn't the case when it was Gabriel’s turn to be used as a sparring partner in his beast form against Jack of all people. The blond drew his battered sword and took stance, eyeing the large black beast with sharp blue eyes. His injured arm trembled slightly from the weight, but Jack’s expression was determined and ready for a fight. Gabriel knows better than to hold back on his friend, even if he was injured. The black cleric beast screeched, going into a full-on sprint towards Jack and swiped at the blade he raised to defend himself. He knows how Jack fights: go on the defensive to get a read on the situation before going all-out with some convoluted strategy that usually involves him doing something very, very stupid. Jack pushed the large black claws away with a grunt, blue eyes locked onto red before jumping back a step as Gabriel slammed his other hand down. The beast growled, swiping furiously at the Hunter, Jack avoiding every move with finesse before being backed up against a wall. Jack pushed himself away from the wall, sliding under the beast’s legs and transforming his blade into its pristine aqua green form, slicing the air to create a blade going for Gabriel. 

Interesting. 

Gabriel snatched the incoming projectile with his palm, feeling it sting as it created a large gash, but he paid little attention to it. Jack’s eyes widened before grimacing, rushing towards the beast with his greatsword raised. Gabriel lunged forward as well, raising his own hand to stop Jack’s next attack, only to see the man throw his sword towards the ground and using it as leverage to leap forward with a pistol drawn out. He took a quick shot at Gabriel’s face, the beast turning slightly for the bullet to hit its horn instead. Jack rolled onto the ground, shooting several more times before holding up a hand, a bluish white glow engulfing his palm. Several balls of light surrounded Jack’s hand, shooting towards the beast at lightening speed. Gabriel knew Jack has an affinity for the arcane, but to conjure it up so fast was truly something. 

Very interesting. 

Before either of them could attack, the training doors flew open, several shouts being heard from somewhere above to close it while others screamed of how interfering is a violation in protocols. Both Jack and Gabriel paused, looking at the frazzled scholar that came in and spoke rapidly about a successful communion with a Great One that wasn't Ebrietas. Several scholars murmured to one another, one of them motioning Jack to leave the vicinity as several guards began to surround the large black cleric beast. Gabriel let out a low growl, red eyes flaring as the guards advanced with serrated weapons.

He never liked changing back, to be threatened into a corner like some crazed beast. 

“Hey.” Gabriel looked up from reaching for his door handle to see Jack peeking from his own room.

“Hey.”

“How was super secret training?” Jack asked.

“It was alright, I guess.” He murmured, trying to hide the lacerations decorating his left leg as Jack shimmied over into Gabriel’s room. “You doing alright? With your arm and all?” Jack hummed in affirmation, crawling on top of his friend’s bed and snuggling up in a mound of blankets. The other Hunter rolled his eyes seeing Jack basically sleeping in his bed, tufts of blond hair peeking out from under the duvets. A blue eye peered at Gabriel. 

“What happened to your leg?” He asked quietly. Gabriel mentally cursed at himself as he sat down at his desk, brushing away the pile of papers and books aside to take out a first aid kit from under the table. 

“Training.” Gabriel said firmly, rolling up his pant leg to reveal several large cuts around his left leg. Jack sat up straighter from his spot on the bed, brows furrowing. 

“Gabe…”

“I'm fine. Don't worry about it.” Several minutes went by of disinfecting the wound and wrapping fresh new bandages on it. He let out a small hiss, flinching at the large cut on his palm. Right. Jack’s magical flying blades or some shit. Gabriel looked up to see Jack squirming in his bed, trying to find a comfortable spot in the pile of blankets. “How the fuck did we become friends?”

Jack blinked, hugging a pillow. “Well. You hated my guts before, said I was some flower-boy-farm nerd, then we kept talking to one another, now we’re friends? I don't know.” He shrugged. In actuality, Jack wasn't wrong; Gabriel didn't think that the blond would be anything but a pretty face. His arrogance created a rivalry between the two in their earlier months of the academy, the two becoming well-known in Byrgenwerth for their excellence in combat and strategies. Now, it would be a miracle to see them separate from one another after five years.

“Right. The magical flower-farm-boy that comes into my room every night and steals all my blankets and pillows like the thief he is.” He huffed a chuckle, wrapping a bandage around his palm before heading over to the bed and tickling the blond. A burst of laughter came out of Jack, writhing in the sheets.

“But you love me!” The blond was in a giggling fit.

“I do.”

Jack blinked, his laughter dying down as he looked at Gabriel. There was no tease in his voice, no humor; only sincerity. Dark brown eyes scanned for a reaction, quickly ducking away. The man tried to leave the bed, only to feel a hand grabbing onto his sleeve, blue eyes seemingly glowing in the dark. What made them stand out more was how flushed Jack cheeks became, wide eyed and mouth gaping as if to speak but closing as if unsure. 

“Really?” He asked dumbly, just barely above a whisper. 

“Yeah.” Gabriel murmured, letting himself be dragged back onto the bed and lying next to the blond. They were facing each other, Jack still bundled up in most of the blankets, trying to cover his blushing face. Jack kept a hold on his arm, bringing it close to him. 

“Ana’s gonna find out.”

“I think she already knows. You know how she is.”

Both of them laughed quietly, snuggling up against one another. 

“They're going to send us out to the city soon.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Yeah, in like another five years.” Jack laughed. 

“Five years doesn't feel that long though.”

“Five years of dealing with your blanket and pillowing stealing shenanigans.”

Five years of never finding out who really are the black and white Vicars. 

Five years of small intimate gestures when nobody's looking. 

In five years, Gabriel would meet the boy that cannot miss a single shot.


	19. Chapter 19

McCree found himself whisked back into the world, blinking blankly at the dark grass beneath him as he tried to make sense of what Gabriel revealed.

_“Wait. What? Run that by me again.” McCree said, completely flabbergasted and sitting up straighter in his seat. Gabriel ran a hand down his face, exhaling a sigh. Red eyes glanced around warily before the old hunter leaned in to speak in a low voice._

_“This Hunter’s Dream was created because of me; it was my last ditch effort in order to survive what the Church did to the Watch. I took the brunt of the damage and nearly died_ — _but I used something that I found back in my time in Byrgenwerth. It was...something that I didn't really understand at the time, only knowing that it would basically call out to a Great One.”_

_“You mean those beings that are like gods to the city folks?” McCree asked. Gabriel nodded._

_“You remember the stories I've told you about how the Great Ones always yearn for their own children? But they're too unique in their own biology to mate with one another or, if they do, their children dies. Because of that, they look for a surrogate.”_

_“A surrogate?”_

_“A replacement_ — _in this case, me.”_

 _McCree purses his lips. It was a lot of strange information to take in, his brows furrowing in contemplation. Gabriel survived the fall of the Hunter’s Watch because he summoned a Great One_ — _and this eldritch being is now tied to him._

_“So what? It just keeps you hostage?”_

_“It's…complicated. By being the surrogate child the Great One wanted, I am protected by it_ — _and by protected, I mean bound to the Hunter’s Dream.” Gabriel sighed, looking around nervously, as if he is expecting something. “The Hunter’s Dream was created because I_ — _I didn't want it all to go to waste because some assholes thought it was better to side with the Church for god knows what reasons. The Great One made the Dream from my memories…but it also created the Nightmare as a defense mechanism. There's something in Yharnam that this Great One doesn't like, basically. Not sure what exactly.”_

_“How do we end it then, this Nightmare?” McCree asked cautiously, dreading the answer._

_“I have two theories: the first is that we need to find the other linking source of the Nightmare; something is clearly agitating the Great One here. I feel that if we can eradicate that source, it'll do something.”_

_“And the second theory?”_

_“I die. Simple as that.”_

_McCree’s breath hitched, staring wide eyed at his former mentor. Gabriel was sitting there, looking directly at McCree with calm red eyes, hands folded onto his stomach as he lounged in the chair. The brown haired hunter sat further back into his chair, taking off his hat and rubbing a hand over his face. There was a sudden frigid breeze wafting through the entire house, the two hunters standing up completely on alert. Something's wrong._

_“You need to leave. Now.” Gabriel said quickly, snapping his fingers to summon several Messengers from the abyss. The deformed humanoids began to wrap around McCree’s legs who was struggling to get out of their grip. McCree let out a shout before being plunged into the inky depths of the abyss. The last thing he saw was Gabriel turning towards the window, backing away in fear, a red glow washing away all the colors of the room._

The sound of metal clanging against stone caught McCree’s attention, looking up at the dilapidated house in front of him. He cautiously descended the steps to see several inky tall figures with sickles converging on two Hunters lying on the wet cobblestone floor. McCree drew out Peacekeeper with a quiet flick of the wrist, carefully inching forward to get a better look. There on the floor was Hanzo completely knocked out, long black hair spilling into an inky pool around him. A trickle of blood leaked from his hairline beside his temple. The other Hunter kneeling down was someone he recognized: Seventy-Six. Seventy-Six growled, hefting himself up with his great sword that gleamed brightly in the dimmed light. Too many Mad Ones surrounded them, not to mention a feeling of dread building up in his gut. McCree let out a breath before taking stance, eyes narrowing as everything slowed down. Eight targets, six bullets. He cursed to himself as he let Deadeye do its thing, eight bullets firing from the six shot revolver before doubling over, feeling a sharp pain shooting into his right eye. McCree withdrew a hand that instinctively covered his eye, seeing a small black shard glimmering through his blood.

“Should've known you weren't so easy to kill.” The old Hunter said grimly, groaning. He looked over at Hanzo’s unconscious body. “Took a big hit from a Mad One while going for the Witch of Hemwick. Be on your guard; she's still around.” The sound of someone cackling caught their attention, McCree taking out his trick weapon and clicking it to its mobile form. He stood back to back with Seventy-Six, keeping an eye on Hanzo. Rapid footsteps came from the side, both Hunters reacting fast and dodging the incoming witch that unveiled herself from her invisibility, a curved knife in her hand. Despite missing the two, she continued forwards towards Hanzo, holding the blade high up and above his skull. Seventy-Six was about to attack before being yanked back by an invisible force, being brought to his knees as another form began to unveil itself behind him. Another witch. Two Witches of Hemwick. McCree rushed forward, shooting the first witch that was about to attack Hanzo and lashed at the second witch, causing her to screech and go invisible again as Seventy-Six got up.

“You need to get Hanzo out of here.” The older hunter said.

“What makes you think I'll jus’ leave you here by yourself? And why the heck are you guys here in the first place?”

“The Dream is rejecting him; all the lanterns refuse to transport him to the Hunter’s Dream. So if he dies—” Seventy-Six drew out his pistol and fired at a lumbering Mad One nearby. He twirled around for another shot, freezing as he saw one of the witches dragging Hanzo away. More and more Mad Ones sprang up from the depths of the abyss, surrounding the Hunters as the witch dragged the archer away. McCree raised Peacekeeper again, trying to even out his breath and letting time slow down.

_Focus._

Everything turned gray with a tinge of red, McCree solely focusing on all the Mad Ones around him. Something warm was trickling down his cheek.

_Focus._

He could hear Seventy-Six yelling at him, his voice becoming muffled. Hanzo began to stir, bleary eyes trying to adjust to everything around him before struggling to get out of the Witch’s grasp. A scream rang out as all the Mad Ones fell, McCree collapsing to his knees and covering his eye that bled profusely. Blood continued to dribble out of his eye and over his gloved hand, gulping for air. He snapped his head up towards Hanzo. There was a glimmer of surprise in the archer’s eyes, stilling momentarily. Hanzo elbowed the Witch away with excessive force, causing the hag to stumble back. He took out a knife hidden away in his jacket, plunging it into the witch’s cranium and twisting the blade for good measures. The other hag appeared soon after, running towards Hanzo in a crazed manner. Seventy-Six unclicked his large greatsword to a more sabre-like weapon, throwing it at the witch. The silver blade sank through the witch’s torso, impaling her as she staggered over towards the archer, Hanzo readying his bow before she toppled over. All three Hunters let out a sigh of relief, Seventy-Six hurrying over to McCree whom was still covering his eye with a hand.

“Let me see.” He murmured, shooing McCree’s hand away from the wounded eye. It reminded the gunslinger of how Gabriel or Jack would chide him for getting a scratch when he was younger, trying to cover it up with his scarf or jacket. McCree sighed and slowly removed his hand, the Old Hunter examining his eye. He heard the silver haired man above him click his tongue before leaning back, unwrapping the bandages around his own eyes. McCree tried to get a good look of the illusive Seventy-Six’s face, only to have it obscured by the man’s chest as he wrapped the cloth around McCree’s bleeding eye. His brows furrowed before Seventy-Six pulled away, only to find himself sitting alone on the cobblestone floor, a faint breeze blowing by. The gunslinger touched the cloth wrapped around his left eye, standing up and turning around to see Hanzo caressing his head, a tiny groan coming from the man.

“Hey.” McCree jogged over to him, steadying the man with both hands on his shoulders. “Hey. You okay?”

“How are you alive?” Hanzo asked quietly, his voice strained from the pain he felt from his head injury. He tried moving away from the gunslinger, McCree keeping a firm grip on him.

“Guess I’m just lucky.” He smiled wryly.

“Lucky.” Hanzo echoed with mirth, his eyes avoiding contact with McCree’s. The gunslinger tried to catch Hanzo’s gaze, the archer continuously avoiding looking McCree in the eye. His brows furrowed.

“Hey, c’mon now. Let's get you back to the chapel so we can fix that nasty wound of yours.” McCree said in a low murmur. Hanzo didn't budge, still looking aside. He sighed, unfolding the serape wrapped around him and covering Hanzo with it. Delicate handiwork wrapped the woolen cloth around the archer, Hanzo blinking and finally looking up in surprise. McCree gave him a small smile before heading over to the door at the end of the large room to find a bloodied body tied up to a chair, a bundled up rod was resting in the nook of their arm. He muttered a small prayer and apology before taking the rod into hand, walking back out and giving it to Hanzo.

“That there will help you get back into the Dream.” He held out the rod towards Hanzo, the archer staring at him with mixed emotions written so clearly on his face. The ones McCree could recognize were lost, guilt, and pain. “Is there something wrong?”

“You...died. The dragons said they couldn't sense you between realms—yet here you are.” Hanzo said carefully, slowly and unsure of himself. McCree blinked. He has never seen the eldest Shimada brother be so…vulnerable. So lost.

“Well, escaping Death seems to be my speciality. C’mon.” McCree beckoned him over to a lantern that seemingly sprung up from the grey bubbling liquid congealing in the middling of the room. The Messengers turned towards the gunslinger, elated to see him as they clapped happily at his presence. They turned towards Hanzo, staring blankly at him as the archer shuffled forward, uncertain. “Aw don't be like that, guys. He's bringing back the little rune tool.”

The Messengers groaned slightly before opening the iron lantern and creating a purple flame. McCree smiled, tipping his hat at them. The two went to the Dream in silence, McCree looking over his shoulder every now and then to see the archer looking to the side or down at the ground. When they opened the door to the house, Zenyatta greeted them with a polite nod.

“I see the eldest Shimada has earned his rights of returning to the Dream.” McCree just shrugged.

“You can put that thing on the altar and leave it there.” The gunslinger waved towards the the podium in the far back room. Hanzo complied hesitantly, walking up to the altar and placing the rod onto the counter. The fabric fell away to reveal what looked to be a black iron branding rod, a strange symbol decorating the front head. He looked up at the two near the door, McCree and Zenyatta talking quietly to one another.

“I was unaware the Master locked out the elder Shimada from the Dream; it is not like him to close off the Dream to another Hunter. His purpose here is to help other Hunters in the Nightmare.” The doll said calmly as McCree sighed and ran a hand through his hair, airing away his hat and throwing it towards a tall stack of books.

“I’m just—what other secrets is he hiding? I thought he was dead for so long...only to find out that he actually is living in this Dream as a hostage?” He growled in frustration. “Okay. So, let me get this straight—stop me if I’m wrong: the Healing Church found something in the catacombs down below the city that allowed them to communicate with the Great Ones?”

“Yes.”

“They send scholars to study these Pthumerian tombs and found something—the Old Blood. Not only was it a way to communicate with the Great Ones, but it had abnormal healing properties that they basically created a religion around.” Another nod from the automaton. “But the blood has shit in it that doesn’t sit well with people—it turns them into beasts. The discovery of the Old Blood made them want to investigate it even further, poisoning the water system in Old Yharnam in order for the ‘Ashen Blood’ to spread through the populace so they could give the people the ‘healing blood’ that would cure anything.”

“Old Yharnam became this goddamn experiment for the Church to play around with—fucking Deadlock stole the healing blood because they thought it would help them and sold knock offs to others.” McCree slammed his prosthetic hand against the wooden frame of the door, eyes flaring red momentarily. Zenyatta blinked blankly, silver eyes watching the hunter with diligence. A golden orb hovered over towards the man, McCree feeling most of his anger slowly seeping away before huffing out a sigh, plopping down onto a nearby chair and seeing Hanzo look at him from the altar.

“What now?” McCree asked in general, Zenyatta sitting next to him on the small reading nook.

“Well, first of all, you can stop being a reckless idiot.” All three looked up to see Gabriel Reyes walking down the stairs, adjusting his dress shirt cufflinks, smoothing out his satin black vest and straightening his tie. Hanzo’s eyes widen in bewilderment, looking back at McCree and gesturing towards the man. “Nice of you to bring back the workshop rune tool, Shimada. Now I won't have to lock you away from the Dream because you decided that your spirits can just kill my son like that.”

“Gabe…” McCree rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and looking to the side in embarrassment. Hanzo, on the other hand, looked genuinely terrified. “Look, Hanzo just freaked out. I mean, if you were in his shoes, you would probably do the same thing—minus the whole summoning spirits thing.”

“You could have permanently die, Jesse. Spirits in the Nightmare are different than those that got caught up in this mess.” Gabriel sighed, taking a seat near the fireplace. He sat with a leg over the other, a finger tapping on the armrest. “Listen—shit’s happening in here and out there; in the Dream and in the Nightmare. I don’t know what the hell is going on, but it needs to be resolved before others that got caught in this Hunt are affected by it as well.”

“And what would ‘it’ be?” Hanzo spoke up, albit quietly. Gabriel leaned forward, closing his eyes while inhaling deeply.

“The Dream, Nightmare, and Waking World are starting to bleed into one another—soon, all the realms will become one reality.”

“Wait.” McCree said. “Wait, wait, wait. What the hell are you talking about, _jefe_?”

“Listen. Something—or someone—started this Hunt for a reason. Frankly, I don’t give a fuck what it is, but it _has_ to stop before things get out of hand, especially for the Hunters.” Reyes urged.

“They need to transcend the Hunt; to reveal the truth of what is happening in the city of Yharnam.” Zenyatta said calmly, looking at the gunslinger and archer. “I suggest heading for Byrgenwerth. The Provost still resides there; he is one of the few that has knowledge about the mysteries surrounding Yharnam.”

“The place where it all started.”

“The old man, huh? It's a start, but I wouldn't get your hopes up.” Gabriel muttered. “The Provost was obsessed with the idea that everybody has a ‘third eye’ that can see beyond what humans perceive. In other words, the old guy wanted humanity to ‘ascend,’ but _not_ by the Old Blood. He told everybody in Byrgenwerth that the blood would only create chaos and muddle the mind. To think we used to laugh at him for being crazy in the head.”

“If this Provost knows the dangers of the Old Blood before the other scholars of the Church, why keep it a secret?” Hanzo asked, bewildered.

“Oh, he wasn't being secretive of it at all, Shimada. The Provost went on about how dangerous the Old Blood is—drove almost all of us insane. But his teachings did technically create the Choir so…” Gabriel shrugged nonchalantly. “But a good start nonetheless—there's just one problem.”

“What?” Both McCree and Hanzo asked, glancing at each other at the synchronized mindset with a raised brow of amusement.

“You have to go through the Forbidden Woods to get to Byrgenwerth. Luckily for you guys, this old Hunter was a student there.” The man stood up from his seat with a grunt. “Over here.” Gabriel waved the two Hunters over to a table where a map laid out, his finger jabbing onto a section of the parchment.

“You'll want to get to Cathedral Ward first; the Grand Cathedral or Chapel lanterns are the closest to the area, so take your pick. Then, you guys need to head towards the courtyard and go through this alleyway.” He slid his finger from the large circular area to a small sliver of parchment that led to a smaller area. “Head left and down the corridor. Follow the path and you should see a winding staircase that leads to a big set of wooden doors. Somebody will ask you the password to get through.”

“Hope you still remember the password, _jefe_.” McCree glanced up at the older Hunter. He smirked, red eyes glowing faintly.

“‘Fear the Old Blood.’”

 

///

 

“Okay, I love Gabe and all but he could have told us that this place is _fucking littered with poisonous snakes._ ” McCree shot at another slithering serpent that tried to ambush them from a rocky alcove. It let out a sharp shriek, writhing in pain before becoming still in a loosen coil. Hanzo grimaced at the sight, feeling slightly uneasy by the death of the serpent. The archer looked up to see McCree grumbling his complaints quietly to himself.

_You see us within those creatures, do you not?_

Hanzo sighed, twiddling with the wooden whistle dangling from his neck.

_“And if I do?”_

_There is no shame in thinking such a way, young master. Although…_

_“What?”_ He hissed at the voices in his head, receiving a questionable look from the gunslinger. Hanzo shook his head, McCree giving him a shrug before continuing down the path and shooting another snake hiding in the bushes.

_We question how you feel traveling alongside the man that cannot miss a single shot._

_The one that you killed._

Hanzo stilled. He heard one of the voices scoff.

_Must you always be so dramatic?_

_I am just trying to understand why our young master is so upset by such an act._

“Uh. Hanzo?” The archer jolted, nearly jumping up comically and stopped before he tripped over an overgrown tree root. McCree gave him a wary and concerned look. “You alright there, partner?”

“Yes—I was just thinking about what Reyes said. About this Hunt.” He said sharply. So many thoughts were running through Hanzo’s head, ranging from the origin of the Hunt they are trapped in and McCree’s beasthood. Although McCree has shown restraint in his beastial form, how far can he go without succumbing to the primal instincts of the monstrous blood within him? Genji told him multiple times to give the man a chance, saying that he trusts the gun-slinging Hunter with his life, even as a beast. How could his brother just so willingly accept the fact that his friend is a beast without question?

“Hold up.” McCree said lowly, stopping and holding a hand up. Hanzo halted, fully aware of the band of deranged townsfolk huddling near a campfire. He unhooked Stormbow off, taking out an arrow, only to have McCree drag him to the side, pressing him up against a tree. Before Hanzo could question the hunter's actions, a mangled mutt came ambling by, sniffing the ground and looking about. A guard dog. Both of them held their breaths hoping that the mutt would go on its merry way. It started trotting towards their direction, Hanzo seeing the eyes of the dog not as white as the others he had seen before. There is still color in its iris, a muddled brownish grey looking and sniffing the air with its wet snout. It let a quiet high pitched whimper, McCree immediately untangling himself from the archer and slowly kneeling down at it, holding a hand out.

“C’mere!” He whispered to the mutt as it cautiously walked over, sniffing the gunslinger’s gloved hand. It backed away before sniffing again, pawing at his knee. McCree laughed and ruffled the dog’s head. “Looks like the scourge hasn't gotten to you just yet. Hmm, let's see…” Hanzo watched him examine the dog, checking its limbs for wounds, its ears for infection, and its teeth for rot.

“What are you doing?” He finally asked, an exasperated sigh escaping from his lips. A small yip came from the pooch, its mangled tail wagging back and forth. The dog rolled onto its back as McCree began to give it belly rubs, a chuckle bubbling up.

“Aw c’mon! He's a cute lil’ fella that just got caught up in a bad place.” McCree said, keeping his voice low to avoid alerting the huntsmen lingering nearby. “Most stray dogs in Yharnam get sick with the scourge because of the water system being poisoned with the Ashen Blood years back. The mutation doesn't take long to take effect but this lil’ pup seems to be smart enough not to drink the water ‘round here. Wonder how he's still somewhat healthy though.”

Hanzo rolled his eyes, leaning back on a nearby tree while watching the brown haired man play with the dog, cooing at it. “You seem fond of it.”

“Jack and Gabe never let me keep a dog—or any pet, for that matter. Too busy and not enough funds to have any roaming around the Watch.”

“And before you joined the Watch?” The archer noticed McCree going stiff, his metal hand freezing on the dog’s belly, eyes staring blankly into the distance. A whine escaped from the pup, rolling itself onto its legs and nudging the gunslinger's frozen form. “McCree?”

The dog shot up straight, it's floppy ears peaking ramrod straight before growling next to the man, barking insistently as footsteps and metal scraped against littered stone embedded in the ground. McCree got up immediately, donning his trick weapon and rushing forward, slashing at the huntsman, dashing to another in quick succession as if he was on autopilot. He ducked a swinging rake, Hanzo looking for higher ground to get a good shot at the oncoming huntsmen running towards them. Climbing up a slope and jumping onto a sturdy thick branch, hefting himself up, the archer drew out an arrow, knocking it. McCree continued to fight against the huntsmen, moving to the side as one of them tried to slash at him with a machete. Hanzo let the arrow go, the silver point piercing through two huntsmen with a sharp whistle, blood barely even dripping from the clean shot. Rapid footsteps made him snap his head up to see a tall humanoid figure with a wolf’s head rushing towards an unsuspecting McCree still defending himself, not even drawing out Peacekeeper once. The creature let out a roar, McCree spinning around with a wide eye and narrowly avoided the large spiked makeshift pickaxe embedding itself harshly into the soft ground.

“Get down!” Hanzo yelled, prompting the gunslinger to duck down, holding onto his hat as an arrow came whizzing past him. Silver lodged itself into the the large beast-like huntsman’s skull, the creature snarling in Hanzo’s direction. His eyes widened as it changed course, running wildly towards him with an arrow jutting out of its head. He jumped towards another branch, only to feel himself being painfully pulled back by his long hair, the beast growling behind him.

A loud roar came from behind the huntsman beast, Hanzo hearing electricity crackle in the air and the wind whipping about wildly as the huntsman was grabbed by its head. Large black claws gripped the huntsman skull and threw the creature far into the depths of the woods after it let go of Hanzo’s hair. The archer looked up to see the beastial form of McCree above him, its other hand bringing him close as he let out a deafening roar, instilling fear not only in the remaining huntsmen, but Hanzo as well. He dared to take a glance upward towards McCree, his face obscured by the gnarled fur around him. All that peeked out of the shrouded depths were red eyes that glared at the forest before looking down at Hanzo. Without any warning, McCree held Hanzo tightly against his chest, bolting down the forest in a rushing current of wind, the archer screwing his eyes shut. His eyes snapped open as he heard a gunshot, McCree stumbling mid-run and letting go of Hanzo, the two of them tumbling down a cliff and into a dark chasm of muddled ichor.

Hanzo groaned, pushing himself up only to feel a hands latching onto him, shouting in surprise to see a corpse moaning and clawing at him. He kicked the moving carcass away, hearing bones snap as he got up, looking around the swamp. The large form of McCree was a few feet away, breathing heavily but still lying on its sides.

“McCree.” Hanzo knelt besides the beast, a hand reaching to ground him, only hearing a low growl and red eyes glaring at him from the murky shadows of his face. The archer flinched back before gripping tightly onto the beast’s arm. “We need to get out of here. There is no doubt whoever attacked us is still nearby.” Another growl escaped from the beast, melting into a groan.

“Leg stings like a bitch.” McCree growled, his voice distorted with a low rumble. “Don't know if I can get us out of the gorge.” Hanzo bit his lips, looking back up to see the crawling corpses slowly making their way to them. He can't carry the giant beast by himself—and the nearest flat strip of land was nowhere in sight.

“Can you revert back?”

“Give me a second.” McCree groaned, picking himself up with ungodly sounds of joints popping. He expected the beast to turn back into a man. What he didn't expect was McCree to grab him, large clawed hand wrapping around his waist.

“McCree!” Hanzo yelled, the abhorrent beast leaping up and out of the gorge, landing hard with wood splintering around them as they crashed into a rotting building. The sound of wooden debris crumbling around them echoed in Hanzo's ears, getting up and letting out a pained shout as he found a small piece of metal jutting out of his side. Moving slowly, the archer gripped onto the shrapnel, bracing himself before yanking it out swiftly, doubling over and falling back down onto the ground. He looked over towards McCree’s form, wind shifting the curled fur about.

“McCree.” _Don't you dare die on me again._

A low rumble escaped from the beast, flipping itself over onto his back as his shaggy face turned towards Hanzo.

“Hey.”

Hanzo rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless behind the inky strands of his hair spilling over him.

“Hello.”

A huff came from the beast. “You lost your ribbon.” Hanzo slowly got up, one hand over his bleed wound while the other reached for the back of his head to feel his hair completely loose from its ponytail. He sighed.

“So it seems.” Hanzo said. Brown eyes scanned the beast’s form, McCree’s breathing steadying itself slowly. The scent of copper and salt lingered in the air. “You're injured.”

“Could say the same t’you.” McCree sighed, the red orbs closing. He got up with the snapping sound of debris and bone cracking, shaking his head to get rid of all the dirt and grime like a dog would after rolling around in the mud. A hand reached over and tugged Hanzo close to the beast, the two of them sitting in comforting silence, hidden in a dark corner of whatever building they crashed into. To be in the literal hands of a beast would be unheard of from the archer, but Hanzo found himself relatively calm leaning against the warm body of McCree’s beast form. For some reason, despite all he was taught about beasts and their drive for bloodlust, Hanzo felt safe. Well. Partially safe; they are still in a dense forest with deranged townspeople and other monstrosities roaming about outside. He didn't even get a chance to scout out where they crash-landed to see if there were any threats lurking about.

Hanzo squirmed in McCree’s grip, the claw loosening as a red eye blinked open, closing again with a huff.

“What're you up to? There ain't any beasts nearby if that's what you're getting up for.”

“Your leg.” Hanzo went rummaging through the small satchels attached to his belt.

“I'll just die with silver in me, thanks.” That earned a glare from the man, taking out a roll of cloth and what looked like small metal tweezers. Hanzo shimmied over towards the large beast, tucking a long strand of hair behind his ear before examining the wound on McCree’s leg. Definitely a gunshot wound—clean entrance and exit right above his ankle. Putting the tweezer away, Hanzo took out a small bottle of alcohol, glancing up at the beast hesitantly. McCree looked at him, red eyes narrowing. “Jus’ get on with it.”

Hanzo carefully poured the clear liquid onto a ripped part of his inner jacket, giving the beast a final glance before wiping the wound. A loud snarl erupted from McCree, quickly becoming a bellowing roar with claws swiping at the archer. He fell backwards, pushing himself away as McCree writhed in pain, chest expanding and contracting in quick successions. Hanzo got up and wrapped the cloth around the wound as fast as he could, listening to McCree’s breathing becoming erratic from the searing pain. It all cooled down after a few minutes, Hanzo sitting far away across from the beast as McCree leaned against the wooden walls, glowing red eye staring back at the archer.

“Would it not be better for you to change back?” Hanzo asked quietly, hissing at his own injuries. He looked down at the hand covering his puncture wound, drawing it back to see it drenched in sticky red. A quiet curse escaped from him, taking off his layers of clothes until he was topless. Reaching for another piece of cloth, Hanzo shut his eyes after pouring alcohol on it and gritted his teeth. The intense pain of the liquid disinfecting his open wound made the archer bite down his shouts, trying to suppress the number of curses trying to escape his mouth. It would be better for him to stitch it, but Hanzo merely wrapped the gauze around his waist hastily. He grabbed his shirt, frowning at the ripped fabric before putting it on slowly, wincing in pain from the muscle movement. First was the black undershirt, then the robe, and then the jacket.

“Can you stop squirming around for a second?” McCree huffed, already coiled up into a big furry ball, a lone red eye peeking at the archer. “Ain't any beasts nearby that I can smell—just blood.”

“How can you be so calm about this predicament? We are in a dark forest filled with huntsmen and beasts alike. Not to mention that we are currently injured and stuck in one place.” Hanzo argued. All he received was a roll of an eye, McCree huffing and curling into a tighter fluff ball before falling asleep. A sigh escaped from Hanzo, the man slouching further into the uncomfortable wooden panels of the building they are in. He crossed his arms across his chest, trying to keep himself warm as a breeze wafted through the crevices of the wall, closing his eyes and concentrating on his breathing. After a while, sleep finally took him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay (and no beta)--this chapter was actually finished about a month ago but I was so busy getting ready for AX (and playing FFXIV: Stormblood) that I didn't have time to upload it lol. I still hate this chapter with a burning passion but here's some McHanzo getting started kek. Next chapter will kick the story up a notch.
> 
> Speaking of AX, I will be tabling there for the entire weekend so stop on by at the Artist Alley and say hello at table F39 (you get a free sticker if you say "geb."
> 
> Also, I'm working on an R76 fic on the side so there's that as well.
> 
> Anywho, kudos are appreciated!


	20. Chapter 20

“Where is he?” Zenyatta looked up from the headstone he was tending at, a metal hand pausing to remove the overgrown vines and weed entangling the grave marker. The man dressed in all black stood behind him, a glint of red shining from the abyssal depths of his distorted avian bone mask. 

“Of whom do you speak of, Reaper?” The automaton asked calmly, turning his full attention to the Old Hunter. 

“You know damn well who I'm talking about—the white wolf. The white vicar.” Reaper snarled. “Where is he?”

“And what good will it do for you to find the wolf?” Zenyatta turned towards the man. “Your anger has misguided you, Reaper. This bloodlust you feast upon has made you no different than the beasts themselves.” A throaty laughter bubbled from the man, shoulders shaking. Reaper swiped at the doll with his scythe, Zenyatta jumping up and onto a nearby fence, balancing himself on the thin metal with ease. The golden orbs surrounding him glowed purple, tracing into a wheel behind him. Reaper drew out his blunderbuss, firing at the automaton that leapt gracefully from fence to fence, shooting the spheres at the old Hunter in defense. 

How dare this piece of metal tell him that he is similar to the beasts meandering on the streets like mindless animals scouring for food? He needs to find the white vicar—he needs to kill the beast. He needs vengeance for all that he has lost. 

The sound of the Watch doors being thrown open caught their attention, a small boy with disheveled brown hair rushing outside. Wide eyes froze upon seeing the Reaper, the child taking a step back. Reaper canted his head, the child’s face looking strangely familiar, static filling his brain. 

A voice shouted, Reyes dragging the boy back and behind him while taking out a similar blunderbuss, aiming at Reaper. 

The sky turned red. 

 

///

 

Reaper shot up from the ground, gasping and feeling for any wounds on his person. There was a slight crack to his mask, but other than that, he was perfectly intact. Crimson eyes looked around to see the Hunter’s Dream washed over with a red hue, the doll lying motionless on the ground, metal orbs glistening from the ominous light. A groan caught his attention to see the child picking himself up, shaking his head free from the blades of grass stuck in his hair. A large black looming figure hovered over the building, multiple tentacles writhing in curiosity. It's entire body looked similar to the lithe Messengers, albeit much more grotesque with an elongated rib that jutted out and opened its organs to the world, looking more like a maw if anything else. The monstrosity canted its head at Reaper before looking at Reyes dangling from its hands. It crushed Reyes’s body in its fist, a growl emanating from the creature that crawled further up to Reaper, the child stared in frozen horror at what happened. Blood dribbled to the ground, zigzagging its way along the cobblestone floor and darkening the grass with Reyes’s flesh. 

_ “You dare trick me? The one who gave you life after death?” _ The creature hissed, the omnipotent voice evidently furious. Reaper backed up, glancing towards Jesse. 

Jesse. 

He knows this child. Jesse was his son. Not by blood, but damn well close enough. 

A large hand grappled Reaper, the man struggling in the creature’s grip as it brought him towards the circular hollow void that acted as its face. 

_ “My dearest son, tricking me with a memory while you leave your dearest mother here in this Dream.” _ He felt the hand tightening, panic starting to rise.  _ “But, alas, you are my dearest son. Mind muddled, may your third eye be obscured from what lies beyond the call.” _

 

///

 

Hanzo woke up to the sound of something shuffling nearby, blinking open bleary eyes to see McCree getting up, walking around in circles and pawing the floor several times before becoming a coil again. It reminded the archer of how the wolf spirits would try to make themselves comfortable while resting next to their mother. She would play the  _ koto _ by the open screen doors, delicate finger plucking the strings with elegance and precision in each note. The brothers would both be in the room, either doing their own things, listening in awe, or lulled to sleep by the zither playing softly in the air, the wolves wrapping themselves around them.

Another huff brought Hanzo out of his thoughts, McCree trying to make himself comfortable again on the hard wooden planks. 

“Why do you insist on staying in such form?” Hanzo asked, his voice groggy as his mind, a palm massaging his eye. 

“More comfortable. And I don't have to worry about certain things.”

“Comfortable.” Hanzo snorts, still half asleep. “You are ridiculous.” He huddled up again, pulling his coat closer for warmth as a breeze blew through the dilapidated wooden cottage. 

“I have a question for you.”

“As you always do.”

“Cold. Anyways, I was just wondering, why are you still sticking around in this shit excuse of a town?” McCree asked. “You know where Genji is; he's safe and sound. So what about you? I doubt the locals have been very friendly to you.”

Hanzo grimaced in his pseudo-sleep, huddling more into a ball of bloody fabric. Why was he still in Yharnam?

“It is not as if I can escape if what Reyes said was true. If reality is becoming one with the Nightmare and Dream, then the entirety of not only Yharnam is in danger, but everywhere else as well.” Hanzo said, a hint of doubt in his voice. “It’s best we rid this curse before it starts to affect other regions beyond Yharnam.”

McCree hummed lowly, the rumble in his chest vibrating the floorboards. “Rather heroic response from you.”

“Seems only logical to me.”

“I suppose so.” With a grunt, the hulking beast got up, a rush of wind encasing him briefly before McCree stood there in his human form. Naked. Hanzo immediately turned away as he heard McCree let out a soft ‘oh,’ his feet slapping against the wooden panels. Was it like this last time too? He knew McCree was rather fit but he didn't think he was  _ that fit.  _ A nice, well toned figure, more put together compared to the scrawny teenager he saw over twenty years ago. The archer tried not to think about it. 

“What're you so shy about?” McCree’s voice was closer, causing the other man to tense and glance over his shoulder to see the gunslinger wearing his usual attire, fastening the bandoliers around his shoulders. Hanzo’s expression must have been quite noticeable if McCree explained himself. “Oh, these? I can turn back with my clothes on but I guess I got too comfortable and didn't think about it. Happens every now and then—but never with the ladies. Try ta be considerate when they're around.”

“That makes no sense at all. The clothes, I mean.”

“I don't question it.” McCree shrugged. “Then again, can you really question anything after what we’ve seen so far?”

Hanzo was silent for a brief moment. “Fair point.”

“Let's mosey on over to Byrgenwerth then.” The gunslinger motioned with his chin towards the collapsed section of the dilapidated cabin they were in. He walked over the sharp wooden debris, moving some of it out of the way for Hanzo to get by. “How's the cut?” Brownish grey eyes glanced over towards the prominent bloodstain seeping through the dark clothes the archer wore.

“How much further until we reach Byrgenwerth?” Hanzo forgot about his wound, wincing in pain as he held a hand over it. When he brought his hand back, Hanzo felt the wetness of his own blood coating his fingers. He looked down to see it bleeding through the sash. The wound didn't look that big to begin with, but perhaps it got worse when he recklessly took out the shrapnel. “And what of your own wound? Are you able to walk?”

McCree lifted up his foot and wiggles his ankle around. “The beast blood allows faster healing. Not instantaneous but close to it.” He pursed his chapped lips in contemplation before speaking again. “I can carry you in my beast form. It'll make getting to the gates faster and I can pretty much bulldoze my way through if we run into any trouble.”

“I feel as if that would create more trouble.” Hanzo deadpans. 

“We only have two options, Hanzo: tear down everything in the way or walk slowly to Byrgenwerth. Take your pick.”

“You just turned back into a human. Why expend your energy again?”

“It's not that bad.” Hanzo glared at him, eyes sharp and wary. 

“Why are you doing this?” He asked. “There is no reason for you to help me after what I've done to you.” The last part of his statement was unintentional as he saw McCree give him a strange look, eyes widening in surprise. The rugged gunslinger slouched back slightly, both hands being shoved into his pockets. He sighed, taking out one hand—his prosthetic—to lower the brim of his hat, hiding his face. 

“I don't quite know.” McCree muttered. “Do you want me to leave?” Hanzo was taken aback, hearing the dragons heaving out a heavy sigh. 

_ Why are you like this?  _

_ All he wants to do is help but you keep pushing away. _

“I just don't understand your motive. There is no reason for you to act so kindly towards me.”

“Shimada.” McCree said firmly. “You never had any friends, did ya? Back in Hanamura?” He stayed quiet. 

“Genji told me that you don't talk to people often back home, that you don't even leave the household to even have fun.”

“He speaks too much for his own good.”

“He’s worried about you, Hanzo.” McCree said instantaneously. Hanzo sneered, quickly walking away from the gunslinger into a random direction, hearing hurried footfalls behind him. “Just tell me what’s on your mind!”

“And what good will that do?” Hanzo snarled. He felt a hand grab his shoulder, harshly turning him around and slamming him into a nearby tree with more force than necessary.

“Listen here. You keep your distance from others and there won’t be anybody to help you when you need it the most—and trust me, there’s gonna be a time where you’ll be a fucking useless piece of shit just wanting to cry out for help.” McCree shoved away from the archer with a pointed glare, shaking his head with a scoff. “I’ve been trying to be helpful for the past—I don’t fucking know—few hours but you…you’re still the same after all these years. Shoving people away because you think you can handle everything by yourself.”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“The hell I wouldn’t!” McCree outright snarled, eyes gleaming red momentarily. “I was fucking sold by my mother to some seedy-ass gang of thieves and murderers all for a goddamn cigarette. They told me that it was a dog-eat-dog world out there and they wouldn’t defend me even as a kid—I wasn’t even seen as a liability; I was an asset. Jesse mother fucking McCree is just a kid from the desert that can kill several men with as many bullets as he wants. All those years I thought keeping to myself would be just randy-dandy; Deadlock doesn’t care, neither do the others; I’m still making money and getting by with whatever scraps I could find. Just a kid with his dinky pistols and barely enough meat on his bones. Then you know what happens? They try to leave me to die in a burning house, taking whatever they could with their greedy hands.

I thought I was going to die in that place, just seeing all that fire around me burning away the house, Deadlock stuck under several beams. He—” McCree stopped suddenly, eyes becoming distant. Hanzo pursed his lips, brows furrowing in concern.

“McCree…?”

“Deadlock turned into a beast, got straight back up under all that burning wood and chased after me throughout Old Yharnam. Everything in the old city was aflame and I didn’t know where to go. Eventually, I got cornered in Oedon’s Tomb. D’yknow how terrifying it is to see a beast just staring you down before it’s gonna eat’cha as a kid? Goddamn scary. I was honestly glad Reyes showed up to save my ass from Deadlock; would've been dead meat if he didn't show up.”

Hanzo watched McCree heave out a sigh, running a hand over his face. 

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that there are people that have their weaknesses and it’s okay to show it. Look, I know you had a harsh life before, trying to meet expectations for others, but life ain’t that simple. And it ain’t gonna make you happy. I may be steppin’ outta line with all this talk, but it's alright to ask for help when you need it.”

Hanzo felt the twin dragons under his skin chuckle, a hand instinctively rubbing the tattooed arm. He didn't expect the man to talk about his entire life story, comparing himself to Hanzo in a sense. Both lived a harsh life filled with the need to fulfill the expectations of others while trying to survive in a world that does not take kindly to those that have better intentions. The dragons hummed quietly under his skin, Hanzo feeling them smile in satisfaction. 

_ Do you understand now young master?  _

_ There is a reason why we took a liking towards this man.  _

_ Accept yourself and we shall be yours again. _

Hanzo blinked, looking up at the gunslinger who was starting to wane in his posture, his face showing unease. There was never any reason for him to be angry at the man for trying to help—even back when they were younger. McCree always seemed to have good intentions for someone that was brought up in an unfortunate situation. He walked up to the man and pulled at his ear. 

“You talk too much for your own good, McCree.” Hanzo said with no bite in his words, the corners of his lips slightly arching up before walking down the path. 

“I pour my heart out and this is how you treat me?” McCree whined from behind, rubbing his ear with a pout. Hanzo looked over his shoulder with a knowing smile. 

“You should take care of having your heart out on your sleeve like that. It may do more harm than good.” He said quietly. “Now then. To Byrgenwerth?”

“Sounds good t’me.” The gunslinger hurried towards Hanzo, walking by his side and making small talk on their trek down there dark forest filled with venomous snakes and deranged huntsmen that showed signs of the plague. Maybe things will be alright between the two.

Or not.

After what seemed to be several hours, the two found themselves overlooking a clearing similar to Oedon’s Tomb above on a cliff side, McCree looking disdainfully down at the fog blanketing the ground beneath them. Hanzo felt an uneasy feeling coming from the area that lead them towards Byrgenwerth, the dragons keeping quiet there entire time during their trip there. 

“Something's not right around here.” McCree said quietly, hurrying over down the slope and carefully inching towards the opening.

_ Something ancient sleeps here, young one. Be careful.  _

Hanzo took out his bow blade, clicking it into its form as McCree took out his saif. There was a sense of dread in both their stomachs, the two hunters looking at one another as they inched further into the opening. The sea of fog draping over the ground was curling around their ankles, Hanzo feeling the dragons underneath his skin writhing in anticipation. He rubbed a thumb over his wrist where a portion of the dragon tattoo was peeking out.

_ “Is there something wrong? You two are more stressed than usual.”  _ He murmured quietly to the spirits. A growl escaped from one of them, Hanzo raising a worried brow.

_ There are more than one. _

_ But they carry with them a portion of our mother. _

_ “Mother?”  _

_ You need to be careful little one _ — _ this fight will not be easy on both you and the gunslinger. _

McCree raised a hand to stop Hanzo from proceeding. Before them, a tall lithe figure in a disheveled black robe walked slowly towards them, brandishing a long sword that resembled closely to Genji’s own weapon. The sense of dread multiplied as two other figures that were a spitting images of the former came from behind, one wielding a similar blade in one hand and a candle in another; the other one dragged a mace along the dirt floor, swirling a ball of flames in its other hand.

“Well. That ain’t fair.” McCree said, rushing towards the one that held a mace, swinging wildly at it, shooting at the strange figure as it jumped back to dodge McCree’s attacks. Hanzo quickly let an arrow fly as the one with the candlestick held it up to its draped face, a spray of flames being directed towards the gunslinger. The arrow lodged itself into the thing’s arm, its head slowly turning towards the archer before making its way towards him. Strangely enough, despite their murderous intent, the strange robed figures never seemed to be in a hurry, always walking towards the two rather than run. Hanzo soon found out why as he tried to run towards an obelisk that was tilted to an angle that gave him an upper hand. He tripped over several broken tombstones that jutted out of the ground, almost rolling onto a sharp piece of iron that was chipped off of the nearby fences. A blade stabbed the ground next to his face, holding the candle close to its own face. Hanzo heard it taking a breath before seizing. It lifted the thin leather strap that was Hanzo’s necklace with the wooden whistle his mother gave him when he came back from Yharnam all those years ago.

_ "Only use it when you feel that you are in great danger, Hanzo. This gift is not a toy, nor should it be abused." _

_ "What does it do?" Hanzo was tempted to try it out, his arm almost bringing it to his lips until he saw his mother scowling at him. He let his hand fall to the side.  _

_ "You will know when the time is right." _

Hanzo kicked the hooded figure away, grasping onto his necklace like a lifeline as he hurried over to get to higher grounds. He saw McCree dodging the fireballs being lobbed at him, putting his saif away and opting for his revolver instead.

“Could use a little help here, Hanzo!” McCree yelled out to him, ducking behind a broken stone tombstone, reloading his revolver as a fireball came crashing next to his head, chipping away at the grave.

“A little busy at the moment!” Hanzo yelled back, drawing an arrow and taking aim with Stormbow, knocking it back. He shot the figure continuously throwing fire magic at McCree, quickly moving away as the other hooded figure that grabbed his necklace jumped for him. Why did it have to be three goddamn weirdos wielding fire magic out of all things chasing after them in this decrepit graveyard of all things. Hanzo took out the small talisman of Haru, throwing it towards the a ground as it burst into flames, the wolf snarling as it was summoned into the existing plane. The wolf glared at the figure that approached its master, flames erupting from its maws as it launched itself towards the enemy, giving Hanzo enough time to move and provide support from above for the gunslinger. McCree heard Haru growling from afar, his eyes wide with surprise and brief fear before shaking off the initial shock of seeing the wolf again. He hurried over to an open area where Hanzo can shoot freely, staggering the figure by shooting it in the legs several times.

A piercing screech made the two look over to see all three of the hooded figures writhing in pain before something dark sprouted out of their bodies, a misty red aura surrounding them. They all moved faster, McCree nearly tripping over his own footing while Hanzo slid down a broken obelisk, seeing Haru not fairing well himself. Things were starting to look very grim with how active the figures started moving, much more aggressive than before and swinging wildly at the three. One of them drew out what looked like a small wooden trinket from their neck, Hanzo’s eyes widening. The figure with the makeshift flamethrower blew onto the wooden whistle, a high pitched whine reverberating around them as the ground shook. Haru looked about, wary of his surroundings before the ground beneath the wolf became dark with a shadowy ichor. Giant fangs bursted out of the ground, clamping down hard on the wolf spirit with a sickening crunch, Haru letting out a yelp as whatever had a hold onto him dragged the wolf back down into the abyss.

“What the fucking fuck.” McCree whispered to himself, completely struck with fear. He scrambled away from the monstrosity wielding the scimitar, finding himself pinned in a corner with several protruding fences threatening him from behind and a sword in front. The figure growled, black amalgamation connected to it writhing in a black mass as if it had a mind of its own. The gunslinger saw its slender fingers reach for what seems to be a necklace holding a wooden whistle, bringing it towards the depths of the hood towards its lips. Hanzo hurried over and threw a knife at the figure, clicking Stormbow back into its blade form and striking the strange entity. It let out a painful screech, snapping its head towards the archer and blew the whistle in his direction. Hanzo looked down to see the ground turning dark, a gasp escaping from him as he barrel rolled over to the side and glanced over his shoulder to see a large serpent coming out of the ground, hissing and looking about for it’s prey. Bright red slits trained onto him, Hanzo backing away, holding onto the same wooden whistle around his neck close to him.

“Hanzo!” McCree shouted as the gigantic serpent lunged for him, giant maws opening wide for the man. Hanzo blew onto his whistle, eyes not leaving the serpent’s. 

_ Finally. _

A sharp pain blossomed from Hanzo’s left arm, seeing the tattoo hidden beneath his sleeve shining bright blue, flaring up into a blinding light as it felt as if something was ripped out of him. Twin serpents in radiant blue electricity danced around Hanzo’s slumped over form, curling around him protectively as golden eyes glared at the black serpent. Images flashed before Hanzo’s eyes, the archer stunned in a stupor as he saw two young children sitting in front of an open window, both of them listening intently to a woman with long black hair and billowing robes. She swiped a hand across both their arms; the eldest receiving an elaborate royal blue and gold tattoo onto his left while the younger obtained green and silver onto his right. Hushed words that were not meant to be heard by any other rang loud and clear in Hanzo’s mind.

_ “The guardians have blessed both of you _ — _ but with great power comes responsibility. Consequences. You won’t be able to control them at will, and they are far too powerful to merely be locked away within your bodies.” _ She said quietly, murmuring to herself, if anything.  _ “Dragons are powerful creatures; elegant and wise, but arrogant and prideful. Having them locked away will no doubt anger them _ — _ all living being wants to be free, to live by their own accord. What we do _ — _ what  _ I _ do as a summoner goes against my beliefs, but also knowing that these guardians have chosen my sons as their vessels is an honor not only to our family, but our country.” _

_ “I have made a pact with the dragons long ago _ — _ they are sworn to protect you no matter what, but do not lead yourself astray from their judgment.” _

Hanzo heard the dragons above him roar, striking at the black serpent as quick as lightning. Each pummeling sound echoed like thunder rumbling in the dark clouds, a blur of blue, gold, red, and black melding together. A hand grabbed Hanzo’s shoulder, shaking him out of his thoughts as he McCree lead him away from the massive bloodshed of three enormous serpents destroying the graveyard. Shards of concrete and metal rained down upon them, the sound of lightning shattering the night around the Forbidden Woods made the two Hunters cower back in a small crevice. A shaky sigh escaped from McCree’s lips, the gunslinger look down at Hanzo.

“Ya mind explaining me why you have two big ass dragons in your arm?” He gestured towards the glowing tattoo.

“I thought I already told you.” Hanzo breathed, flinching as a roar echoed throughout the night.

“Okay, yeah. Spirit dragons. You got two of them. But that still doesn’t explain,” He gestures his metallic hand towards the all-out snake brawl. “That.”

“I’m just as confused as you, McCree.” Hanzo sighed, combing his hair back with his hand. “I always knew of the dragon spirits but I have never seen them manifest into a physical being. Not only that, but they spoke to me before the fight broke out, saying that their ‘mother’ is nearby.”

“Y’think they’re talking about that big black snake there?”

“I...am not sure. They say it is their mother, but from what I understand, the dragon’s true mother was my own mother’s dragon. But she passed away years ago.”

McCree ducked both of them down as a wide tail came crashing above them, raining down stony debris.

“We just gonna wait this out?”

“The enemy is still nearby. It would be best for us to move before they come find us.” Hanzo warned the gunslinger, his mind still alert on where the other hooded figures have gone off to.

“Don’t know if I want to get tangled up in a scaly showdown but I see your point. We can probably sneak off to Byrgenwerth while they duke it out.” He pointed towards a dilapidated fenced entrance, the metal spikes covered in rust and ivy. “That should lead us to the school.”

“Why do I get a bad feeling from this?” Hanzo deadpans.

“Eh, it’s a Yharnam thing.” McCree shrugs, getting out of cover and heading for the entrance, Hanzo quickly following from behind. A screech nearly stopped them in their tracks as two of the figures chased after them, the one with the scimitar throwing it towards the two. Hanzo deflected the projectile with his own sword, rushing forward and ducking low to the ground as a gnarled black hand came reaching for him, extending unnaturally into what looked like a snake-like visage. He slashed at the creature’s legs, spinning around and impaling Stormbow through its torso. It fell limp to the ground, Hanzo taking out his sword from the body and turning towards the other figure approaching him. The archer clicked his sword into its bow form, shooting at the hooded figure straight in the face, letting the twin dragons surging towards the body and consuming it, the smell of blood and flesh stinging his nose and churning his stomach. They looked over to see the shadowy serpent hissing from the ground, riddled with bite marks and long lacerations ruining its sleek black scales. It slinked back into the shadowy abyss of the earth. Hanzo glared at his dragons.

_ “You two have a lot of explaining to do once we get to the academy.” _ He hissed at them. Both dragons rolled their eyes with a huff. Ridiculous.

 

///

 

Reaper found himself at the base of a large gnarled black tree behind the Hunter’s Dream, sitting in the curled roots as a field of white lilies laid before him, swaying gently in the breeze. He looked up at the large white moon shining from above, cascading the entire Dream in a soft yellow light, hearing the shuffling sounds of the flowers around him and the quiet snores of Jesse resting besides him. The child had a vice grip on his coat, mumbling in his sleep and readjusting himself to be more comfortable. Reaper hesitantly placed a hand on the boy’s head, smoothing out the soft brown hair.

Whatever is going on in the Nightmare is starting to affect the Dream—the Moon Presence having little control in wiping his memories again. Things were starting to piece back together, little by little. Reaper stared blankly at the moon, reminiscing the past. He was a Hunter that went to Byrgenwerth, being the top of the class and enlisted in a special program that turned Hunters into beasts with their cognition intact, becoming more powerful than those before them. He remembers traveling down into the pits of the Pthumerians dungeons under the city, encountering strange entities and beasts that protected  _ something _ down in the depths—they never figured out what it was though. The only thing they found in the catacombs was the origins of the beast scourge, the scholars coming to the conclusion of beings beyond imagination blessing the Pthumerians with mutations to transcend humankind.

_ “They call them the Great Ones. Eldritch beings with divine powers that is absolutely...words cannot describe what they can do.”  _ He remembers hearing one of the scholars prattling on about their discovery down in the depths.  _ “If we can commune with one, there would be no doubt of the insight we would gain; to further advance in society _ — _ as humans! Perhaps even beyond that.” _

But there were those that had their doubts—Reaper included.

_ “The scholars are saying that the Great Ones are comparable to gods and basically worship them. But I can’t help to think that they’re getting this all wrong.”  _ The blond Hunter set down his sword, the blade shining bright under the candlelight.  _ “I’ve seen Carol and Alexander in the labs, working on the blood they found down there. They aren’t themselves anymore _ — _ their obsession with the discovery of the Great Ones presence is poisoning what the Hunters originally stood for.” _

He remembers becoming a beast from the “Ashen Blood,” fighting against other Hunters in a small closed off room for “training;” he remembers being sent to Old Yharnam to eradicate the beasthood outbreak by setting the town aflame.

_ “What the fuck were they thinking?”  _ The blond Hunter stared in horror at the burning buildings, hearing the screams of the townspeople running away as snarls echoed down the alleyways and blades clashed against stone and flesh.  _ “Did they not see this coming?” _

_ “They knew what they were getting themselves into.” _ He said, gripping tightly onto his trick weapon, his knuckles turning white.  _ “They’re just playing God now.” _

But to speak against the Church would be treason. Even with their disagreements, the Healing Church decided to have the group of Hunters to create their own little sector within the Church’s rankings. The Hunter’s Watch.

Everything began to tumbled down after that.

_ “We will no longer be associated with the Healing Church.” _ The blond Hunter said sternly, facing the high judicators of the Church that sat above the Commander of the Hunter’s Watch. Reaper remembers standing in the shadows, wordlessly watching everything unfold. One of the members leaned over in their high thrones, folding both hands under their chin.

_ “What has brought this about, Watch Commander? The Healing Church has been nothing but supportive of your cause in controlling the beast scourge in Yharnam.” _

_ “Supportive? Intel suggests otherwise. When we were sent to eradicate beasts in Old Yharnam, our Hunters found poison in the waters pointing towards your own scholars creating the plague. They used the Ashen Blood to create this disease and you all reinforced the notion of using the Old Blood as some healing miracle. You created the beasts in Old Yharnam! Innocent people were murdered and set aflame because of your sick obsession with the unknown.” _

_ “The unknown?”  _ One of them chuckled.  _ “The blood is that of divine nature _ — _ ” _

_ “That’s bullshit and you know it.” _ He seethed, losing his composure.  _ “The Hunters that received orders from your precious Healing Church to investigate the fishing hamlet outside of the city told me of how the scholars forced them to cut down the villagers and open their skulls.” _

_ “And what did they find, Watch Commander? Was it not the eyes that were hidden in their skulls? The eyes that allows one to see beyond what normal humans can? The eyes that allows one to ascend and become a Great One themselves?” _

Reaper shuddered at the thought of the Hunter and scholars splitting open the skulls of the villagers, searching voraciously for these so called ‘eyes.’

_ “Absolutely nothing.” _

_ “Incorrect. They found a Great One.” _

Reaper froze in the shadows. He didn’t hear anything about this in the reports. 

_ “That your people murdered!” _

_ “Murdered? Now, now, that’s quite an accusation that you are throwing on top of these other ridiculous ones.” _

_ “They called her Kos. Her body was shriveled up by the time my team and I came to investigate the perimeter. And she had a child. Also dead.”  _ He seethed.  _ “Your kind worships the Great Ones and yet you murdered one of them in the name of science.” _

_ “She would not give the Eyes.”  _ Another spoke up, calmly.

_ “What makes you think that Kos would give you your fucking Eyes after what you did to the village? You took her blood, tortured her and left her for dead with a child in her womb! I’m starting to doubt that any of you can achieve anything greater than being beasts themselves.” _

All the judicators rose from their seats, staring down at Jack behind their blindfold caps. Reaper doesn’t remember much after that summons—only that he and Jack began to argue with one another more often than usual.

And then there was fire, flames licking at everything around them. The wooden support beams groaned under all the pressure and collapsed to the ground, crashing in a loud cacophony that Reaper couldn’t even hear what Jack was screaming at him from the other side of the room they were trapped in. Bright blue eyes stared at him in pity and fear, hearing the hissing sound of something nearby before an explosion engulfed them in flames. He yelled as he was thrown against a burning bookcase, groaning and picking himself up. Everything was starting to crumble faster and faster around them, moonlight shining from above through the cracked ceiling. Reaper saw Jack lying prone on the ground, several glass shards surrounding him and a large wooden splinter embedded in his back. Blood blossomed quickly under the white dress shirt, Reaper hurrying over, feeling his arms growing longer, fingernails sharpened to claws. A snarl escaped from his lips as he leapt for the unconscious man, feeling burning wood, metal, and glass dropping on top of him.

“You saved him.” The tiny voice of Jesse broke him out of his revere, Reaper looking down at the child. “You transformed into a beast to protect him from the building collapsing but you in turn became gravely injured.” Jesse uncurled his hand to reveal a small dried up curled object, mummified and strange. It looked like obsidian but with ridges that resembled a spine or rib, curling along the entire form. Eyes were decorated all around it. If anything, the best way Reaper would describe it would be a snail shell. But he knew it wasn’t that.

“You never told anyone—not even Jack—what you found in the depths of the Pthumerians catacombs all those years ago.” Jesse’s eyes turned dark, his skin paling into a sickly gray as his form began to chip away. Part of his cheek fell off, crumbling into dust. He held the object to Reaper. “You, Gabriel Reyes, found The Cord of the Eye of a Great One and used it to call upon the Moon Presence to create the Hunter’s Dream—and this Nightmare.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. Hi. I'm not dead but I am very wishy-washy about this chapter.
> 
> I didn't even bother proof-reading this chapter--sorry for the plethora of mistakes.
> 
> For those that are confused:
> 
> \- The Gabriel we initially saw in the Hunter's Dream is a fragment of the real Gabriel who is now Reaper (with slight amnesia because lol overused devices).
> 
> \- Hanzo's dragons are spirits that can manifest into actual dragons; all the Shimadas are "blessed" with dragon spirits because of Hanzo's mother's lineage (will be explained in later chapters). The dragons did not want (and technically could not until he used the whistle) to project themselves in the physical world because they believed Hanzo was not ready with all his bottled up emotions and isolating himself away from others. TL;DR they care greatly about him but are exasperated that he does not care for himself.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH

_“Talk. Now.”_ Hanzo said, feeling the dragons roll about under his arm. McCree gave him a brief look as the man was talking to absolutely nobody, but decided not to comment about it and continued down the path to Byrgenwerth, pushing past the stray branches in the way.

_What is there to talk about?_

_“Don’t give me that. You know what I’m talking about.”_

_What is it that you wish to know?_ One of the calmer of the two spoke up more gently, Hanzo hearing the other huff out a scoff.

_“Why did you mention a mother back there in the cemetery? You two said something along the lines that something ancient slept there and referred to something as your mother.”_

_He’s smart enough to piece the two together._ The more haughty one said. Hanzo rolled his eyes.

_“It does not make any sense to me. I have been told that the mother dragon of you two was my own mother’s spirit. It disappeared after her death.”_

_Not necessarily._ Hanzo saw McCree holding up a hand to stop him from walking any further. The gunslinger inched forward with his weapon as Hanzo continued his strange talk with the dragons.

_“Explain then.”_

_You knew that your mother was a skilled summoner, correct?_ They received a nod. _Then you should also know that the spirits of our kin residing within the Shimada clan is her doing. As a summoner, she has forged an ancient pact with our kind, being able to earn our favor in protecting those close to her by blood._

_“Guardian spirits.”_ Hanzo said promptly, keeping an eye on McCree who seemed to have found a strange creature that was trying to ambush them further ahead. The gunslinger did not use his revolver in the fight, dancing around the humanoid fly entity and slashing at its wings. Despite the fight before him, he did not feel any need to butt in and join the fray. McCree’s a big man—he can handle himself. _“What did she actually do to earn such a favor? Dragons are not known for their...generosity.”_

A chuckle. _You are not wrong, little one. But that is another question for another time. To answer your previous question: what you saw back in the graveyard was what happens to our kind that have been corrupted by this beast plague. Do not worry; that serpent was not your mother’s. Nor ours._

_“Then what was it?”_

_Yharnam is not the only place in this world that dabbles in science and black magic._

McCree kicked the corpse of the fly-creature, flicking his beasthunter saif clean of the viscous fluid that was its blood off. A severed arm was pushed into the pile of dismembered limbs and fragmented wings, the gunslinger looking as if he was trying to poorly hide what he slew. He looked over his shoulder to see the archer before trekking on forward without a word, strapping his weapon away onto his belt.

_Prior to your mother’s death, there were strange rituals performed under Hanamura. One of those included creating false spirits._

Hanzo felt his blood turn cold.

_“They were creating false spirits?”_

_For profit, no less._ One of the dragons growled. _Your mother greatly opposed this idea and tried to stop it from coming to fruition. Alas, she was silenced by those that were affiliated with the forbidden rituals._

_She had no illness._

_“She was murdered?”_ Hanzo asked in disbelief.

_Those that were interested in the false spirits of our kin were none other than travelers from this very city you two hunters walk upon._

The two Hunters finally reached a clearing to see the imposing building of Byrgenwerth in front of them, all of the windows shut tight and ivy curling around every corner. Several more of the strange fly-creatures patrolled in front of the school, ambling by with little notice of the two newcomers in the distance. McCree gave Hanzo a neutral look, as if he was waiting for something. The dragons grew quiet once more.

“Ya done talking to them?” He asked. Hanzo nodded, following the other Hunter down the dirt path towards the school, taking down any of the creatures that got in their way. “I was gonna ask if everything was alright but then I thought to myself, ‘it ain’t any of my business.’” The archer blinked at that.

“I...appreciate it.” Hanzo was at a loss for words. He didn’t expect the gunslinger to respect his own personal issues going on in his head—literally. McCree gave him an affirming grunt, motioning the man to follow him to the side of the school as the front gates were—unsurprisingly—locked. As they made their way around to what looked like a courtyard that overlooked a large lake that glowed eerily from the moon high above them, Hanzo stopped. On top of a small mound where a burnt down tree stood, he saw a mummified body in front of it, clasping onto something close to their chest. Curiosity got the better of him as he walked over, kneeling down to see something bundled up in its closed hands. As he reached for it, hurried footsteps drew his attention to see McCree running towards him, long white fingers wrapping around Hanzo’s head and covering his eyes as he felt something pierce his skull.

 

* * *

 

“Angela?” Genji knocked on the clinic door repeatedly, albeit softly. “Angela, can you open the door? The others are worried about you; you haven’t reported to them in quite a while.” He stood in front of the wooden door, glancing down at the small broken section of the frosted glass decorating it. A white fabric peeked from behind the hole.

“Ah. Genji, is that you?” She asked quietly from behind the door. “I’m sorry if I have made you and the other worried; my work requires much attention, as do the patients.” He heard her shuffle slightly, fabric rubbing against each other. There was a strange scent in the air. Genji took another glance at the small opening, seeing something glow behind the doctor. A hand pushed it away.

“Can you open the door?” He asked patiently. The scent grew stronger, smelling sterile with a slight undertone of the sea. A strange sound emitted quietly behind the door, Genji hearing Angela shushing something. “Angela?”

“I’m sorry—a patient of mine is being quite fussy. And you know my rules by now, Genji; these doors will not open until the end of the Hunt. I cannot risk the plague infecting my patients any further, as well as contaminating my research.”

“Alright.” The Hunter sighed, turning away from the door and descending from the top of the stairs. He looked over his shoulder, seeing the silhouette of the doctor behind the door still standing there. There was an ethereal bluish glow behind her figure, a humming tune quietly drifting into the hallways. Genji continued down the stairs until he reached the ground floor, stopping momentarily.

“Goddammit.”

 

* * *

 

Jack watched McCree running towards Hanzo from behind the tree lines bordering Byrgenwerth, seeing the archer fall into the grasp of a Brainsucker. Nasty creatures that Jack has faced against before. The humanoid thing had a sickly white skin that looked like it was coated in some kind of clear fluid, gangly limbs showing more bone than anything with sharp claws at the end. Its most prominent feature was its face, tentacles writhing in front of it and seeking—as the name implies—brains. The bestiary categorized them as “Kin,” alien-like creatures that are tied to the Great Ones but not strictly related to them. All Kin seem to linger in places where knowledge was once served—such as Byrgenwerth. Even the Mi-Go zombies—or Garden of Eyes, if you want to be fancy—that looked like a fly mutant fucked a billion eyeballs to create some kind of monstrosity are considered Kin.

He saw the Brainsucker gouging out Hanzo’s brains from the top of his skull, the body toppling over as it dodged McCree’s attack. The Hunter swung violently at the creature, peppering in gunshots and alerting the other Mi-Go zombies nearby of his presence. Always reckless as ever…

Jack touched the new bandages around his eyes before heading over, throwing his sword at a Mi-Go zombie flanking the gunslinger in his blind rage. He took out the small pistol from his belt, aiming it at the other zombie heading for him, all of the eyes shining a bright sickly yellow color from its head. The creature had its hands outstretched, elongated hands with black nails reaching for the Old Hunter as he shot it several times in the chest, watching it the Mi-Go zombie fall to the ground. More came pouring in from the side of the school, McCree already turning into his beastial form and bulldozing his way through the horde.

Good lord.

A yelp made the Old Hunter look up to see what made McCree cry out in surprise. Before the large beast was what could be best described as the by-product of alien glowing flora and a centipede having a baby and producing a strange monstrosity known to scholars as the Fluorescent Flower. Or, more commonly from the Hunters that studied in Byrgenwerth, Celestial Centipedes.

Or in Gabe’s words: “Fucking walking dick trees with teeth.”

Jack chuckled at the thought of it, rushing forward towards the Celestial Centipede, grabbing his sword from the carcass on the way. He snapped it into the large sheath on his back, creating the ornate greatsword and jumping with an overhand swing at the strange alien-like creature. The Old Hunter managed to slice off a few branches—or tentacles, honestly he couldn’t tell—before spinning around and shooting the strange bulbous ligament that seemed to house most of its powers. A burst of white light blinded the two of them, Jack hearing the strange amalgamation collapse with a shaking thud and disappearing into dust. McCree growled in the direction of the Fluorescent Flower, eyes shining in the dark before Jack gave him a pointed glare.

“Cut that shit out. It’s already dead.” The large beast chuffed and hurried over towards Hanzo’s body, a tiny whimper escaping his muzzle. McCree laid down next to Hanzo, his expression changing from sadness, to confusion, to panicked worry.

“Why hasn’t his body disappeared yet?” Jack’s brows furrowed in confusion before realizing what McCree was talking about. Hanzo’s body was still lying there, his eyes staring at nothingness as blood seeped between them. Something’s wrong. Whoever dies in the the Nightmare Hunt should either wake up in the real world or in the Hunter’s Dream—but knowing how everything has been so far, Jack can only assume that every Hunter that has died in Yharnam during this cursed Hunt has woken up in the Dream. He grimaced.

“Something’s wrong. This shouldn’t be happening.” Jack murmured. As he walked towards Hanzo’s body, McCree immediately stiffened and let out a territorial growl, hunching over the dead man. Jack let out his own snarl in retaliation, a monstrous sound that reverberated the entire area. McCree flinched and backed up, eyes wide in fear before letting out a small whimper, tucking his tail between his legs and ears flattening on his head.

Shit.

Jack recomposed himself, giving McCree a stern look and kneeling down in front of Hanzo. The man has his skull split open from there brain sucker, soft pinkish grey flesh visible from the opening. Digging through his coat pocket, the Old Hunter took out a small silver bell, eyeing Hanzo before ringing it. The quiet ding echoed softly around them, a pale white glow enveloping them. McCree watched carefully and curiously, glancing between the two before Jack let out a curse. The bell dropped to the ground, Jack holding his head.

What the hell was that? The Old Hunter felt a sudden wave of fear surging through him. A ghostly voice whispered in his head as he stared at the body that quickly morphed into the bloody visage of Gabriel.

_You did this._

Jack backed up with a shout, McCree flinching and letting out a bark.

_Why did you leave me?_

_I trusted you._

_You told me you had my back._

_And you left me to die._

Jack stared at the images of Gabriel mangled up and burning away, eyes filled with fury. He suddenly found himself in the burning remains of the Hunter's Watch, flames licking at the wooden beams as the two stared at each other. Words were stuck in his throat, suffocating him as he scrambled back. A hand grabbed him by the shoulder, making the Old Hunter react by turning around with his fist, having it connect to McCree’s skull. The abhorrent beast growled, red eyes glowing in the mangled fur coiling around his face.

“The hell is wrong with you?” The beast snarled, batting Jack’s hand away. McCree shifted back into his human form. Jack shook his head, brow furrowed.

“Bring Shimada’s body back to the chapel. I'm going to go check the Dream, see if there's anything causing this interference.”

“Wait a goddamn second—” Jack pointed a finger at McCree, silently looking at him with furrowed brows and sharp eyes beneath the bandages. The gunslinger glared at the elder, huffing out an irritated sigh, shuffling over to Hanzo’s corpse. He stared at the image, the Hunter lying in his own blood with the top of his skull popped open. Black hair was strewn about, covering the man’s face, but a glimmer of brown peeked behind the strands, staring at nothingness. McCree knelt down and let out a forlorn chuckle. “You’re not gonna be happy to find out what happened to you when you wake up.”

He lifted the body carefully, grimacing as the sound of flesh spilled onto the ground with a soft plop, the putrid smell of blood hitting McCree in the gut. Carrying a dead body was not uncommon for the Hunter; the gunslinger had his fair share in being an graverobber and undertaker back as a Deadlock member and under Reyes’s command. Hauling a carcass across the city wasn’t unusual for the citizens of Yharnam; they understood the practice as getting rid of the body infected with the plague, stoking the pyre with flesh and bones. McCree never questioned whatever happened to the bodies--he had no reason to. They never fell by his hands.

He looked over his shoulder to see Soldier still looking at him, raising a hand and snapping his fingers together. Several Messengers latched onto McCree’s legs, dragging him down in what felt like a lake, the gunslinger instinctively taking a large gulp of air before hearing a splash. Everything was muffled and bubbles formed about, lazily floating up. McCree opened his eyes briefly to see a bright white area that stretched to infinity at the horizon. In the middle of the strange realm was a large insect-like creature with glowing plants growing from its surface. A dozen of tiny black eyes stared at him as the cries of a babe and a woman echoed in the distance.

McCree stumbled into the chapel, nearly losing his grip on Hanzo’s body before righting himself up. He blinked and looked around, finding himself in the small library connected to the main part of the chapel. As the gunslinger set the man’s body carefully down on a chair--making sure he would not topple over--McCree snapped his head towards the door. Genji stood there with wide eyes, brown quickly lighting aflame with green.

“Now, before you get hasty—”

“What happened to my brother?” Genji asked, controlling the rage lacing his voice. “What happened to Hanzo?”

“A brain sucker got to him when we were at Byrgenwerth; Seventy-Six teleported us back here.” Genji’s eyes dimmed from its fiery green hue, turning back to soft brown as his brows furrowed. The younger of the Shimada brothers then had a quizzical expression on his face.

“Wait. Why isn’t he—”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out too.” McCree let out a sigh, taking off his serape and covering Hanzo with it. Tucking the woolen fabric around the man, the gunslinger paused. “Hey, Genji.”

“Yes?”

“You’re friends with Zenyatta, right? Can’t you ask him why the Dream keeps locking Hanzo out? I mean—he hasn’t really done anything wrong.” McCree sat on the ground, kicking out his legs. Genji let out a hum, tilting his head in contemplation.

“Give me a few minutes.” The ninja said, heading outside and closing the door behind him, leaving McCree with his brother. Soft voices were muffled against the door, McCree huffing out another exhausted sigh, leaning his head back on the bookcase and turning slightly to see Hanzo’s form. Brownish-grey eyes blinked and stared at the archer’s peaceful face, most of the creases smoothened out.

_Help him._

McCree blinked.

_Before it’s too late._

The door swung open, Genji frantically rushing in.

“The Dream is closed off.”

 

* * *

 

“Let me through.”

The Messengers gave disapproving grunts, bemoaning the Old Hunter and uselessly trying to shoo him away from the lantern. Two of them wrapped their bone-like arms around the black metal frame, hollowed out eye sockets staring at Jack as he growled. He dug through his duster, producing a worn and yellowed piece of parchment with a strange symbol burnt onto its surface. The circle on the paper glowed brightly, making the Messengers screech in pain as it created a blinding light. Jack grimaced as the light faded away, glancing down at the Messengers’ corpses around the lantern. He stepped over the carcasses and opened the lantern, snapping his fingers together to create a blue flame, lighting it up.

“I’m sorry.” He said softly, closing the small door on the lantern, placing his hand carefully on the surface. Everything began to bleed and melt into a mess of greys and purple, Jack hearing the sounds of  running footsteps. The Old Hunter quickly turned around to see McCree and Genji rushing towards him through the warped scenery. Jack quickly closed off the teleportation before the two Hunters could reach him, collapsing in the Hunter’s Dream. He let out a gasp as the sky was shining bright red, the moon high and large in the sky. Hurrying over to the building, Jack stopped short and knelt down to hide from what he saw before him.

The Reaper.

Black dust and mist fluttered off Hunter's coat, rising up to the sky as Zenyatta turned towards the man.

“Where is he?” Zenyatta looked up from the headstone he was tending at, a metal hand pausing to remove the overgrown vines and weed entangling the grave marker. The man dressed in all black stood behind him, a glint of red shining from the abyssal depths of his distorted avian bone mask.

“Of whom do you speak of, Reaper?” The automaton asked calmly, turning his full attention to the Old Hunter.

“You know damn well who I'm talking about—the white wolf. The white vicar.” Reaper snarled. “Where is he?”

Jack froze as he heard the Reaper speak. The Old Hunter only knows of one white vicar in Yharnam—that beast is none other than Jack himself. But why is Reaper looking for him? Was it because he fled the man in the Grand Cathedral in Central Yharnam? He had no reason to fight the man back then, nor does he really have a reason to now; the doll can fend for itself.

“And what good will it do for you to find the wolf?” Zenyatta turned towards the man. “Your anger has misguided you, Reaper. This bloodlust you feast upon has made you no different than the beasts themselves.” A throaty laughter bubbled from the man, shoulders shaking. Reaper swiped at the doll with his scythe, Zenyatta jumping up and onto a nearby fence, balancing himself on the thin metal with ease. The golden orbs surrounding him glowed purple, tracing into a wheel behind him. Reaper drew out his blunderbuss, firing at the automaton that leapt gracefully from fence to fence, shooting the spheres at the old Hunter in defense.

The Old Hunter reached for his own firearm, drawing out the pistol from his holster before hearing the doors open, seeing a child rush out. Jack’s lips parted in disbelief as he saw a younger version of Jesse McCree standing at the doorway, looking frantically around. Brownish-grey eyes landed on Reaper’s form, freezing up as a hand dragged him back. The white haired Hunter felt his throat becoming pinprick tight, watching Gabriel Reyes protecting Jesse with his body, drawing out his signature blunderbuss towards the Reaper. A flurry of questions sprung up in his head: why was Gabe there? It isn’t possible; Gabriel died back during the fire—

A sharp noise filled the air, Jack covering his ears, trying to lessen the pain flooding his head. It reminded him of the sounds the scholars would make during training sessions as beasts, blowing sharply into a whistle that echoed throughout the entire building and rendering him into a useless, whimpering state. Jack looked up, watching the sky turn blood red with the moon shining ominously in a sickening yellow light. A large shadow crawled over the building, large black tendrils writhing about as a creature had Gabriel in its grasp. Blood flowed out of its giant hand as it crunched the man into a pulp in its grasp, Jack staring in horror, unable to do anything.

And then he was thrust back into the Hunt, Jack looking about frantically as he found himself back in the Grand Cathedral. The Messengers at the foot of the dilapidated lantern hung over motionless, the flames sputtering out. A scream ripped out of the Old Hunter, turning into a howling snarl as bone splintered and his body contorted in rage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. Hi.
> 
> I promise I'm not dead--I'm just incredibly busy with school (5 studio classes is a lot of work lemme tell ya). Also I'm sorry if this chapter upsets anybody.
> 
> I also found out that I actually had this chapter completed LAST SUMMER and forgot to upload it.....MY BAD.


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